


Tell Me Your Confessions

by DeborahShay



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Beverly is badass as always, F/M, M/M, Minor Eddie Kaspbrak/OC, Minor Richie Tozier/OC, modern day AU, punk richie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-01-07 14:24:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeborahShay/pseuds/DeborahShay
Summary: Richie was never the anxious type, usually quite the opposite, but as he passed the old, dilapidated sign that read ‘Welcome to Derry’, he felt trepidation swell in his gut. It had been years since he’d been to Derry or seen anyone from it. He felt slightly guilty at that, knowing that some of his closest friends still resided there. But in all honesty, they were the only ones keeping him there in the first place.Richie returns to Derry after four years to graduate with his peers, the only people he'd considered his closest friends. But not everything is the way that he left it.





	1. Chapter 1

            Richie didn’t have much; he never did to begin with. Everything that he owned could fit in the back of the shitty truck that he’d bought almost a year ago, saving up from part-time jobs he could fit in after school and on the weekends. It wasn’t like his dad was completely strapped for cash—in fact, he was pretty well off—but when Richie had asked for his help to buy his first vehicle, his dad had told him that “it was a young man’s job”, that buying it himself would “bring him a lot more satisfaction than relying on his old man”. If he was honest with himself, Richie could see where his dad was coming from. That doesn’t mean he’d ever give his father the satisfaction of admitting that out loud, though.

            Richie was never the anxious type, usually quite the opposite, but as he passed the old, dilapidated sign that read ‘Welcome to Derry’, he felt trepidation swell in his gut. It had been years since he’d been to Derry or seen anyone from it. He felt slightly guilty at that, knowing that some of his closest friends still resided there. But in all honesty, they were the only ones keeping him there in the first place. And after everything that had happened his thirteenth summer, after everything he’d watched everyone he loved go through, he needed a break. When his parents’ divorce went through and he had to choose who to stay with, he’d opted for moving away with his father—one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. But it was one of the few choices he’d ever made concerning himself, and he knew he’d never stay away forever.

            The further he drove into Derry, the more his emotions churned in his stomach. By the time that he reached his familiar childhood street, part of his subconscious was telling him to turn back, go back to his dad--go back to the place where he was just another face and not “Trashmouth Tozier”. But he swallowed it down like a dry pill, pulling into the driveway of his childhood home, where his mother still resided. Turning the truck off and shoving the keys into his pocket, he grabbed a few of his suitcases out of the bed and made his way to the front door.

            “Mom,” Richie set his suitcases down, knocking on the front door. “Mom, it’s me.”

            After a minute or two, he heard rustling from the other side of the door before it opened. His mom stood in front of him, her hair a mess and donning worn-out sleep shorts and a t-shirt. She yawned and looked at him up and down before realization hit her, her eyes growing wide.

            “Richie?” She asked. “What are you doing here?”

            Irritation laced his nerves as he gestured to his suitcases, grabbing them by the handles. “Moving day, remember?”

            “Oh shit, honey,” She opened the door wider, waving him in. “Was that today?”

            “Yeah, mom,” He moved in past her, taking in the scenery. The house pretty much looked the same as he remembered it, beer bottles on the coffee table and the smell of cigarette smoke. “Same day we’ve talked about on the phone for the past two months.”

            “I’m sorry, Rich,” She yawned, sitting back down on the couch she’d presumably slept on. “I’ve just had a lot going on.”

            “Yeah, I’m sure,” He muttered, heading back out the front door to collect the rest of his belongings.

           

            It was nearing the middle of August, with school starting in four days. He’d chosen to come back for his senior year, part of him wanting to graduate with the few people he could call real friends—that, and he couldn’t take another year of his father. He’d told a chosen few members of the ‘Losers Club’ that he was coming back to Derry, the few that he kept in contact with the most, anyway. Bill and Beverly checked in on him the most, and he spoke to Mike, Stanley and Ben whenever they weren’t busy with their own lives. He and Ed had hardly spoken since he moved, something that he’d repressed to the best of his capabilities—which, in turn, he was pretty damn capable at.

            _Everyone had taken turns hugging Richie goodbye, surrounding the car he had just finished packing his life into. A sense of sadness and unsettlement thickened the atmosphere around them, but none of them would comment on it. They had too much pride, and it was a memory they were trying not to taint. While everyone had told him goodbye, Eddie had stood in the back, his jaw clenched and his cheeks pink. Richie turned to face him last, swallowing hard._

_“Bye, Rich,” Eddie almost whispered, tears in the corners of his eyes that he wouldn’t let rain down._

_Richie gave him a half-hearted smile that even he knew looked fake, throwing an arm around the shorter boy in an awkward side hug, “Kiss Mrs. K bye for me, ‘kay? She’ll probably miss me more than you will.”_

He shook the memory of the look on Eddie’s face out of his head, putting a Marlboro between his lips and lighting it, something he knew his friends would give him shit for. Sitting on the bed of his truck, he pulled out his phone and began scrolling through his Facebook feed when the sound of a car drew his attention away. Looking up, an unfamiliar van was parking on the side of the street in front of him.

            “No fuckin’ way,” He felt a grin creep up on his cheeks as he tossed the cigarette to the side and hopped off the bed. He heard Bev before he saw her, squealing and not bothering to close the car door before running in his direction.

            “Jesus Christ, kid,” She grinned, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

            He wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, twirling her around. “Goddamn girl, you grew up.”

            She pulled away from him and swatted him on the arm, looking him up and down. “You’re one to talk, Tozier, how tall are you now—six feet?”

            “Six-foot-three,” He winked cheekily at her, taking in her appearance. It had been over a year since he saw her last, and her profile pictures did not do her justice. She’d never been one for vanity, but no one could blame her if she was—she was stunning. Her fiery hair was down her back now, something he didn’t know if he’d ever get used to. She had definitely grown into her body, tall and curvy, beautiful even in the jeans and hoodie she was wearing.

            She wasn’t the only one who had grown up, though. He watched Bill striding over to them after getting out of the drivers’ seat, grinning at the both of them. He’d always been a tall, lanky kid, but Richie noticed that he had a bit of muscle to him now, the old baseball tee he was wearing stretching across his broader chest. His facial features were more defined, sharper. It made him curious as to just how much he missed while he was away.

            “Richie,” Bill threw an arm around him, hugging him close. Richie shouldn’t have been surprised to see that Bill almost matched his height, if maybe an inch or two shorter.

            “Denbrough,” Richie mussed up his hair, chuckling. “Still got that stutter?”

            “S-Still an asshole?” Bill shoved at him playfully, smirking.

            “I don’t know, why? Your mom asking about me again?” Richie grinned cheekily, pulling his pack of smokes out of his jeans pocket.

            “Ah, man, y-you, too?” Bill complained at the same time as Bev, who asked, “Got one for me?”

            They sat and they talked for a few hours, perching on the bed of Richie’s truck. They caught him up on what they’d been doing since the last time that they saw each other, the things that were too much to put into a text when they were busy. Richie had been working when he wasn’t in school, and Bill and Bev had their own lives to attend to. As long as they each knew that they were doing okay, that was enough. There had been more times than he could count when Richie couldn’t sleep at four in the morning, and he knew that Bev was in the same boat. So they talked on the phone, not about what was irking them, but about anything and everything else—a new art piece that Bill was working on, the girls that Richie traded more often than he changed his socks, what they wanted to do once they got out of Maine. They understood each other in the aspect that they never liked burdening other people with their problems, something Richie was secretly grateful for.

            “So why’d you come back here, then?” Beverly asked, taking a drag off of her cigarette. “I mean, I know your dad’s an asshole, but can he be worse than your mom?”

            “Well,” Richie laid on his back, sprawling out in the bed of the truck. “I’d rather have a mom who’s too drunk to be up my ass than a dad who criticizes everything that I do.”

            She nodded in understanding, leaning her head against Bill’s shoulder. Bill wrapped an arm around her, looking at Richie. “E-Everyone’s gonna be excited t-to see you, man.”

            “Of course they are; shit must be boring without me,” Richie smirked. “Who all knows?”

            “I told M-Mike and Stan,” Bill explained. “B-But I’m sure it’s gotten a-around.”

            Richie didn’t have to listen any further to know what Bill meant, judging by the look on Beverly’s face. They knew that he and Eddie hadn’t been on the best of terms when he left, but they didn’t know why. Richie knew just from what the others told him that Eddie was doing okay for himself, and that should have been enough, but he didn’t know why it wasn’t. Even as kids, Eddie had been the butt of most of his jokes, something he’d had a lot of time to mull over since he’d left. Richie always craved attention, basked in it even, and he never cared what form he got that attention in. But Eddie was different, had always been different—and it made him anxious to think that in less than a week, he was about to see how much that dynamic had changed.


	2. Chapter 2

            It wasn’t that Richie wasn’t a morning person—he just really wasn’t a ‘waking up’ person in general. But as he pulled his favorite leather jacket on that morning, he felt a familiar hum in his nerves that he hadn’t felt in years. He was nervous yet excited to see just how much everyone had changed since he’d been gone, and whether it was a good or bad thing. It wasn’t like he hadn’t changed, appearance-wise, he knew that much—his glasses turned into contacts once he got tired of breaking enough pairs, his Hawaiian dad shirts turned into flannel, and the cargo shorts that Beverly always gave him hell for turned into regular jeans (sometimes skinny, on occasion; he knew they made his ass look good). His unruly hair had grown out quite a bit, a smidge past his shoulders now, but the curls had remained intact. He looked himself but older, broader, sharper—much like Bill had.

            The high school itself hadn’t changed since Richie’s youth, just the kids in it. He remembered riding his bike past the school hundreds of times growing up, wondering just what it was like to be in there. He’d always wondered if he’d be more popular, more attractive, and stop getting shoved into walls. Having been in high school for going on four years now, he knew the only thing that had changed for him was whether or not he cared about being popular and attractive. Richie was an acquired taste, and he knew that. People either loved him or hated him, and sometimes that line got blurred with even the best of his friends. He shoved his backpack further up on his shoulder and opened the front door to the school, walking into the crowded hallway.

            “Holy shit, is that Tozier?” He heard someone whisper, leaned up against the lockers near his friends. Richie looked in the boy’s direction, winking and blowing a kiss to him before making his way into the front office.

            Letting the office door close behind him, he saw a kid working the desk, his face buried in a book. “Hey, I’m new here—I came to get my schedule.”

            Richie felt his eyes grow wide like a cartoon character’s once the kid put his book down, recognizing the blue eyes and baby-face instantly. “Ben?”

            “Holy crap, Richie?” Ben grinned, standing up from his seat. He came around to Richie’s side and hugged him, patting him on the back. “Dude, you grew. Like, a lot.”

            “Yeah, no shit; I could say the same thing to you,” Richie looked the boy over, astonished as to how much Ben had grown. He’d shed most of his baby fat over the years, still a thicker guy, but more stout than chubby now. Ben’s face had grown more angular, his jawline sharper. He was handsome, Richie wasn’t denying that.

            Ben blushed at the compliment, clearly seeing Richie’s expression, and shrugged. “I started working out a few summers back. I got really tired of getting picked on, y’know? And I still get picked on, just not as much for my appearance anymore.”

            Ben gestured towards the book, and Richie understood. Why the academic types got picked on, Richie would never understand. Sure, he gave more than his fair share of nerd jokes, but they were usually all in good fun (to him, anyway). While the ones picking on the so-called dorks would peak in high school, Richie knew the smarter kids would go on to excel, and probably cure cancer or something. In all honesty, he’d always kind of envied people like Ben’s knowledge. He’d never considered himself very intelligent.

            “Hey, we’ve got English and study hall together,” Ben smiled, handing Richie his schedule.

            “Maybe I won’t fail this year, then,” Richie smirked, patting Ben on the arm. After promising to catch up with Ben later that day, Richie made his way towards his locker, opening it and shoving his supplies in.

            “Look who’s back,” Richie jumped after closing his locker door, seeing a Cheshire Cat grin on Mike’s face.

            “Fuckin’ asshole,” Richie chuckled, shaking his head.

            “Welcome back, Trashmouth,” Mike clapped him on the shoulder, leaning against the lockers, “Who you got?”

            Mike nodded towards the schedule in Richie’s hand. Richie handed the piece of paper over to the taller boy, watching him unfold it. Mike had definitely won the title as ‘most ripped motherfucker’ in Richie’s mind in their band of losers; Mike’s white t-shirt looked like it was screaming for help around his chest and arms, and to Richie, that said something. Even as kids, he’d always been bigger than the rest of them, stature wise. He even had an inch or two on Richie in height.

            “We got third and last period together, bro,” Mike handed his schedule back, standing up straight.

            “I’ve got classes with Ben, too, so far,” Richie explained, shoving the folded paper into his pocket.

            Mike’s face softened at the mention of the other boy, his mouth tipping up into a half-smile. “It’s good to have you back, man. I've missed you. Who else have you seen so far?”

            “You, Ben, Bev, and Bill,” Richie answered. It might have just been his paranoia, but to the curly-haired boy, it felt like everyone he’d seen so far had been walking on eggshells around him, dancing around some issue they hadn’t included him in yet. The expression on Mike’s face didn’t help ease his thoughts as the bell rang, telling them that it was time for first period.

            He made his way to first period algebra, taking a seat in the back of the room. He watched as the students began pouring in one by one, looking down and putting his phone on silent before class began. So far, he’d only spotted a few kids that looked familiar to him, that he might’ve had in his classes years ago. It was only a minute or two before class began that he saw a familiar face that made his chest ache, nostalgic in a way that he could almost hear someone cussing him out for his bad “your mom” jokes. The dark-headed boy walked in clad in light denim skinny jeans and a dark blue hoodie, not looking Richie’s way as he sat in a desk a few rows ahead of Richie’s and let his backpack drop to the side.

            “Alright, settle down,” Their teacher called, walking over to her desk. She was an attractive woman for her age, dark auburn hair pulled up in a ponytail as she pulled her papers out. She began roll call, going down the list to check who were in her classroom when they needed to be, “Tozier.”

            “Here,” Richie answered, watching Eddie Kaspbrak’s head whip around to follow his voice. Eddie’s dark eyes were wide, making contact with Richie’s. Richie watched a look of heartache cross Eddie’s face before it turned into one of irritation, facing forward once more to direct his attention to the front of the classroom. All his life, he was used to Eddie being irritated or even full-fledged angry at him, but it was usually after Richie had made a joke that crossed one too many lines. But this time, there was no joke to be angry at, and Richie felt just as lost as when he’d moved away.

 

            Richie had been a minute late to his fifth period class, ignoring the older teacher scowling at him as Richie searched for a place to sit. Looking towards the third row, he saw a familiar head full of light-colored curls framing an angular face. He let out an air of relief and made his way over, dropping his backpack to the floor and sitting next to Stan. The Jewish boy looked him over before smirking and nodding at him, offering a small smile after Richie did the same.

            After the bell rang signifying for lunch time, they made their way out of the classroom together, walking at each other’s pace. Richie took the time to look Stan over, and what he saw made his stomach drop. The boy looked by no means bad, he never did, but he didn’t look nearly as healthy and put-together as the others did. Stan’s outfit was as neat as Richie remembered when they were kids, he was always well-dressed; today a cream-colored cardigan clung to his small frame, with tan skinny jeans and loafers to match, but what was under the outfit was bothering Richie. He looked small, too small, almost skeletal, and his face showed it. Stan had dark circles under his eyes and his cheekbones jutted out to a point where they looked sharp—he looked like he hadn’t slept well in months, or ate for that matter.

            “Do you wanna go grab lunch together? I’m buying,” Richie blurted out, interrupting whatever Stan was saying.

            Stan looked at him for a moment before shaking his head and chuckling, “Um, yeah, sure.”

            Richie drove them to a Subway near the high school, paying for their food and following Stan to a booth near the back of the restaurant. They made small talk as Richie watched Stan pick at his food, and he figured Stan was simply too polite to tell Richie he couldn’t stomach it at the moment.

            “Are you okay, man?” Richie asked, not being able to hold the question in any longer.

            Stan gaped at the question for a moment, looking like he was trying to form a proper answer. After a few seconds, he sighed, looking down at his food and chuckling humorlessly. “You’ve never been one for subtlety, Rich.”

            “Sorry, it’s just…nothing seems right, I guess,” Richie waved his hands as he spoke. “Like Bill and Bev haven’t really changed, but everyone else seems weird. It feels like I walked into a fucking alternate dimension or something.”

            “You’ve been away a long time,” Stan looked at him with a sad sense of nostalgia. “Everyone changes, Richie. We haven’t been us for a long time.”

            Richie’s stomach churned at Stan’s words, rejecting the food that it’d been given. “What happened when I left, man?”

            “I don’t really know, if I’m being honest,” Stan explained. “After you moved, things were okay for a while, and then they weren’t. Eddie withdrew from the group, I hardly even hear from him anymore. I don’t know if he talks to the others or not. Bev and Bill still try to keep in contact with everyone, I guess, but the rest of us just…kind of started doing our own thing. Mike got into football and every other sport known to mankind; Ben started being a loner again. I guess we just grew up.”

            Richie stayed quiet for a few moments, chewing on his lip. He needed a cigarette. “They seem to be doing okay, though. What about you?”

            Stan huffed out a breath of laughter. “Growing up doesn’t always look pretty.”

 

            That night, as he tossed and turned in bed, Richie’s subconscious rejected sleep. In his mind, Richie always thought that returning to Derry meant returning to his old friends, returning to their impulsive summers and midnight charades in moonlit streets. He always thought that it meant returning to getting slapped by Eddie for being vulgar and making fun of Bill’s moony face every time the brunet looked in Beverly’s direction. Richie never imagined that it would mean seeing the aftermath of his friends growing apart over the years; the thought just never seemed possible. But as he felt exhaustion take his body over, he figured that maybe if growing apart was a possibility, so was reconciliation.


	3. Chapter 3

            Richie figured that at the rate he was going, he was probably going to fail algebra. Not that he was ever good at the subject to begin with ( _because who the fuck is ever going to need this shit unless you’re like, a rocket scientist or something,_ he thought bitterly), but his former best friend sat just a few rows ahead of him, going about his life like Richie never existed in the first place. Dealing with it from a state away was an entirely different story, but now Eddie had moved on with his life, and Richie didn’t know what to do with himself. If there was one thing that Richie hated more than anything, it was being ignored.

            The bell rang and everyone made their way out of the classroom, including Eddie. Richie rushed to shove everything into his backpack before following behind, trying to catch up.

            “Hey, girly boy,” One of the jock-types sneered at Eddie on his way past the smaller boy, knocking Eddie into the lockers with his shoulder. “Fuckin’ faggot.”

            Before Richie could react, they were gone, and he hurried to Eddie’s side. All of Eddie’s books and papers had been strewn across the hallway floor, making their way underneath dozens of teenage feet.

            “They’re fucking assholes, just ignore them,” Richie told the brunet, piling some of his loose papers together and handing them to Eddie.

            Eddie quickly gathered what he could, taking the papers out of Richie’s hand and glaring at him. “I don’t need your fucking help.”

            Richie didn’t have time to argue as Eddie rushed down the hallway, not bothering to look back at the curly-haired boy. Richie felt a mixture of irritation, anger and heartache bubble up inside of him as he shook his head, making his way to second period.

           

            During English, Richie sat next to Ben, tuning their teacher out and doodling on the edges of his paper. He’d heard something about choosing a Beat Poet and doing a paper on them, due at a date that he didn’t bother remembering. Usually English was a subject that didn’t make him want to die, but that day, his mind was somewhere else entirely.

            “Are you okay?” Ben asked him once it was clear to talk; apparently, they were allowed to have partners in this project.

            “What do you mean?” Richie asked, looking up at the shorter boy.

            “You’ve been shaking your leg for the past twenty minutes, dude,” Ben raised an eyebrow, looking down at Richie’s paper. “And you’ve been glaring at that paper like it insulted your ancestors.”

            Richie huffed out a breath of laughter, putting his pen down. He shook his head, thinking over Ben’s words. “A lot has changed since I was last here, and I guess I’m trying to wrap my head around it.”

            Ben nodded in understanding, a sad smile making its way onto his cherubic face. “I know. People grow apart, Rich, but that doesn’t mean we’re not still friends.”

            “What about Stan, then?” Richie asked, irritation lacing his words on the Jewish boy’s behalf. “Does anyone even know what’s going on with him?”

            Ben bit his lip nervously at the mention of their friend, sighing. “He just kind of pushed everyone away, dude. I’ve tried asking him, so have Bill and Bev, and I’m sure Mike has, too. But you know Stan, he’s not gonna tell anyone his problems because he thinks he should be the one with his head on straight. In his mind, he’s not allowed to have problems. He thinks he’s supposed to be the perfect kid.”

            Richie mulled Ben’s words over, and he knew that Ben was right. Even as children, Stan was always the one who was level-headed, their protector, the one who wasn’t afraid to keep them in line. That was one of the reasons why it bothered Richie even more to see Stan in the state he was in. “I know, fuck. It just bothers me.”

            Ben nodded in sympathy, patting Richie’s arm. “Me, too; we’ll talk more about it later, okay? But for now, choose one: Allen Ginsberg or Jack Kerouac?”

           

            During fifth period, Stan seemed more withdrawn than usual. It took every fiber of his being, but Richie refused to let himself hound the other boy, figuring that the conversation from the day before took a lot out of him. When the bell for lunch rang, Richie had invited him to hang out, which Stan declined, saying something about studying in the library. Richie made his way out to his truck in the parking lot, sitting in the drivers’ seat and lighting a cigarette.

            “How did I know I’d find you out here?” Richie looked up to see Beverly, making her way to his truck, smirking.

            “Because I’m not technically allowed to smoke on school property,” Richie grinned, handing his pack to Bev as she leaned against his side of the truck.

            “What’s bothering you, Tozier?” The redhead more demanded than asked, taking a drag.

            “I’m peachy, Ringwald,” Richie rolled his eyes, turning the volume of his music up, hoping she’d get the hint. But Richie figured he should’ve known that even Nirvana wouldn’t make her give up.

            “I can’t believe you still use cassette tapes in this thing,” She shook her head, looking at him fondly. “Anyways, talk to me. It’s the one thing you’re good at.”

            “Gee, thanks, mom,” Richie sighed, leaning his head back against the seat. “Why didn’t you tell me Stan was this bad? I mean, fuck, the kid looks like a ‘Thriller’ reject.”

            She sighed and made her way over to the passengers’ side, opening the door and crawling in. She turned the music down, facing him. “He won’t talk to anyone, Rich. What was I supposed to do? You sounded like you were doing good up there. I know you worry, but he won’t budge.”

            “Even fucking Eddie won’t talk to me anymore,” Richie swallowed hard, offering a half-hearted smile. “I mean, not like I care, I just wanna know how his mom’s doing. She seemed so broken up when I left.”

            “Beep beep, Richie,” Bev smacked him on the arm, chuckling. “Seriously, though, I know you won’t tell me what happened with you two until you want to, but you’ve got to live your own life, too. It’s our senior year, asshole; this is the last year we can be stupid without being held accountable for it.”

            Richie felt a grin spreading across his cheeks, looking up at his best friend. “What you got in mind?”

            “There’s a bonfire Friday night,” Bev explained. “Mike’s football friends are throwing it, and he invited us. You should come, too—booze, girls, Mary Jane. It’s pretty much your scene.”

            Richie pretended to mull it over for a second, stroking an imaginary beard below his chin. “Liquor and tits, you say; whatever would I do?”

            Bev rolled her eyes, crawling out of the truck. “Just tell us when to pick you up, asshole.”

            Richie promised her that he would before watching her walk off towards the school, letting out a breath he didn’t know that he was holding. He and Eddie might not be on the best of terms, and his friends might’ve grown apart, but he was thankful that at least Bev managed to stay the same. She and Bill had always been somewhat of their group’s parents, making sure their children stayed happy and healthy, and from the looks of it, they still were.

 

            Ben had texted Richie after school, asking him if he wanted to come over and work on their project. After almost an hour of coaxing, Richie begrudgingly agreed, mostly to get out of the house. Walking up the steps to Ben’s room after being let in by his mother, Richie stepped into the bedroom, checking out his surroundings. Surprisingly enough, the few things that changed were Ben’s bed and some of his posters, the childlike atmosphere remaining the same.

            “Did you ever decide on whether you wanted Kerouac or Ginsberg?” Ben asked, sitting at his desk and looking through the stack of books he’d accumulated. “Personally, I like Ginsberg more; he just seems to rely on emotion more than Kerouac, to me.”

            “I just found out who these people were today, Ben,” Richie chuckled, laying back on the queen-sized bed. “From what I’ve read, I like Kerouac, but I don’t care either way.”

            “We’ve gotta decide on this together, Rich,” Ben faced his chair towards Richie, flipping open one of the books. He stopped on a page and began reading out loud; Richie had never been one for poetry, never had the patience for it, but something about this particular quote got to him, and he couldn’t put his finger on why. “ _The warm bodies shine together in the darkness, the hand moves to the center of the flesh, the skin trembles in happiness and the soul comes joyful to the eye_.”

            Suddenly, Richie was thirteen years old again, lying underneath the covers in childhood bedroom. His stomach was flipping in anxiety, his heart beating against his ribcage almost painfully. His favorite posters were no longer on the walls, and his entire life was packed in boxes stacked on top of one another. Eddie was breathing beside him, and they each knew the other was awake, but they couldn’t get themselves to speak. If they spoke out loud, everything became real, and reality wasn’t something that they could handle at that moment.

            “Richie?” Ben waved his hand in front of Richie’s face, bringing him back to the present. “What did you think?”

            Richie shook his head, looking over at his friend. “Y-Yeah, I think Ginsberg will be fine.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hurt me, I'm so sorry.  
> Also, I know I'm adding a lot. I literally have nothing better to do.

            Richie couldn’t tell if the rest of that week passed by too quickly, or if it dragged on. He spoke to Mike in class when he wasn’t surrounded by the other sports; it wasn’t as if Mike was stuck up, he never had been, but he was a busy guy and that was something Richie figured he could respect—even if it took getting adjusted to. Stan, for the most part, stayed quiet besides small talk every now and again, and it made Richie’s chest ache to think about. Regardless if the Jewish boy turned him down almost every time, Richie always made sure to invite him out during lunch. He could tell that Stan appreciated it, even if he never said so.

            During the course of that week, Richie had begun to pick up on small things concerning Eddie. His former friend had seemingly made new friends throughout the years, people that Richie really shouldn’t have been surprised by, but was all the same. Eddie mainly hung around a few other seniors: a tall, blond-headed boy with a knack for black nail polish and skin-tight jeans, and a shorter girl with blue hair and a bad attitude. It was almost comedic to Richie, the difference between the three of them. They had well-dressed, clean-cut little Eddie in the middle of two of the school’s punk kids that had never grown out of their My Chemical Romance phase. To Richie, it was like watching Butters join the goth kids in _South Park_. It just didn’t click, but somehow, they worked.

            That Friday, Richie sat beside Bill in his bedroom after school as they screamed at each other over Mario Kart. Beverly sat up on Bill’s bed, watching the idiocy unfold, cackling to herself.

            “F-Fuck off, Ri-Richie,” Bill stuttered angrily, bumping his shoulder into Richie’s.

            “Are you trying to talk shit to me, with that stutter?” Richie snorted to himself, kicking his leg out at Bill’s.

            He got a questionable look from Bill and Beverly as Richie paused the game, pulling out his phone.

            “What’re you doing?” Bev asked, leaning over the edge of the bed to look at Richie’s phone.

            “We still have a few hours until the party, right?” Richie asked rhetorically, getting nods from Bill and Bev. “How long has it been since Ben’s been over here?”

            They stayed quiet for a few seconds before Bill looked guilty, shrugging. “I-It’s been a few months. It’s n-not like w-we haven’t invited him, we-we’ve just all h-had our own stuff g-going o-on.”

            “Invite Stan, too,” Bev smiled at Richie sadly. “I bet it’s been a while since he’s been out of the house.”

            Richie did just that. Ben agreed hesitantly after making sure everyone was okay with it, but it took more coaxing to bring Stan over. After half an hour of begging from the three of them and threatening to show up at his house anyway, Stan begrudgingly agreed on the promise that he’d be home at a ‘reasonable hour’. Richie snorted, getting hung up on by Stan after going, “there’s that Jewish sense of punctuality”.

            This led to the five of them piled in Bill’s room, everyone taking turns playing against Richie after they lost. After Bill lost, Bev took over, and then Ben. Ben lost as well, tossing the controller aside and muttering “it’s a stupid game, anyways”. Stan was the last person who hadn’t played, staying mostly quiet in the desk chair.

            “Oh, Uris,” Richie taunted in a sing-song voice, waving the controller at him.

            Stan watched all of their eyes turn towards him, a challenge. “Nah, it’s not my kind of game.”

            “Fine,” Richie sighed, feigning disappointment. “I understand; it must have been hard watching all of them get their asses kicked, knowing I’m better than you.”

            Richie knew he hit Stan in his weak spot. No matter how much Stan changed over the years, Richie knew he was still incredibly competitive. His grades had always reflected that; it had been instilled in him since he was a kid to be the best at anything he tried.

            Stan clenched his jaw, his expression hardening. “Move the fuck over, Tozier.”

            “THERE HE IS!” Richie yelled, throwing the controller to Stan, hearing everyone else whistle and clap. Even as Stan demolished him, while everyone else roasted Richie about being “all talk, no proof”, Richie couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face even if he tried. With Beverly, Bill and Ben piled on the bed watching Richie get his ass kicked, and Stan throwing insults that would make his father spontaneously combust, Richie realized that he hadn’t felt like this in a long time—like he belonged.

 

            An hour and a half passed by quickly, with everyone taking turns against Stan after he beat Richie three times (“It can’t be ‘dumb luck’ three times in a row, Rich; face it, you just suck,” Stan smirked). Bev had gotten off the bed, shoving her phone in her pocket as everyone looked at her questioningly.

            “Bonfire starts pretty soon, guys,” She explained, pulling her hoodie on. “We’d better leave now if we wanna get there when they light up.”

            Richie and Bill nodded, standing up and gathering their stuff. Richie turned to Ben and Stan, who looked a little lost. “If you guys wanna come, you’re more than welcome to. Mike said you guys could, too.”

            Ben shifted from foot to foot anxiously, looking unsure. “I haven’t been to a party since Jake Lassiter locked me in the bathroom with a drunk girl who couldn’t stop puking, dude, I don’t know.”

            Richie fought back laughter as he threw his arm around Ben, tousling his hair. “There’s no bathroom to get locked in at the lake, dude. I promise.”

            Ben snorted, looking past Richie and at Bev. Beverly gave him two thumbs up, winking, before Ben sighed and caved. “Fine, but if you guys leave me behind, I’m gonna be pissed.”

            Bev kissed his cheek, grinning. “Just stick with us, dude; you’ll be fine.”

            Everyone’s attention went towards Stan, who looked like he might vomit at the idea of a party. “I’m not really ready for that, yet, dude. I’ve got a lot of homework I want to get ahead of, too.”

            Bill nodded in understanding, patting his arm. “That’s o-okay, Stan. Y-You wanna co-come over to-tomorrow?”

            Stan chewed on his lip for a few seconds before giving Bill a half-smile, nodding. “Yeah, man. I’ll see if I can.”

            The four of them said goodbye to Stan when they dropped him off at home, and it might’ve been Richie’s imagination, but he looked lighter somehow, like a weight had been taken off of his shoulders. Richie considered that a win as the sky grew darker and they made their way to the lake, the curly-headed boy itching to feel the burn of liquor down his throat and the taste of tobacco on his tongue.

 

            It was completely dark out by the time that they arrived at the lake, cars parked down the street and faint music coming from behind the thick trees and brush. The four of them made their way down the man-made trail, walking for a few minutes before coming out of the foliage. The moon hung high in the sky, illuminating the lake that people were already splashing around in, the bonfire burning bright and large on the bank. Teenagers littered the logs and beach chairs brought from home, and Richie spotted multiple large coolers right off the bat, presumably filled with alcohol.

            Richie spotted Mike making his way towards them, grinning. “I’m glad you guys could make it.”

            Bev hugged him, returning the smile, “Me too, dude.”

            Mike clapped Bill on the back, greeting him and Ben, before turning to Richie. “Glad to have you back, dude. Make sure they have fun tonight.”

            “You know who you’re talking to, right?” Richie smirked, chuckling at Mike before he turned back around to head to the party.

            They headed down to the fire together, Ben attached at the hip to Beverly. Richie felt a little guilty about dragging him out tonight, but he figured the kid needed more excitement in his life. Bill and Bev greeted people that Richie either couldn’t remember or had never met before Richie spotted a familiar face sitting on one of the logs by the fire, his stomach dropping. Eddie sat curled up to the blond kid Richie recognized from school, sticking out like a sore thumb in his light blue sweater and hair neatly parted to the side.

            Richie elbowed Beverly as she came back to him with a few beers, handing one to him. “He comes to these things, now?”

            “He’s still Eddie, but he’s not the kid that you remember,” Bev smiled sadly at him, wrapping an arm around his waist and hugging him tight.

            Richie wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her back before they followed Bill and Ben, making their way to a few empty seats by the fire. After the better part of an hour, Richie had drunk too much for his own good. He wasn’t drunk enough to fall in the fire or think he can drive, but he knew when he was tipsy enough for his filter to diminish completely. Bill and Bev had opted for a beer or two, making sure to stay sober enough to drive and not make Ben uncomfortable.

            Eddie had definitely spotted Richie by then, and Richie knew that much because he couldn’t get himself to stop looking in Eddie’s direction. Eddie had opted to ignore him, but the blond Eddie had presumably come there that night with caught his eye more than once. Richie knew when he was being eyed; he’d been around the block more than once to know when someone was into him, and whether Eddie knew it or not, his ‘date’ was into Richie.

            “I gotta take a piss,” Richie mumbled to Bev, who nodded in response. Richie walked, beer in hand, far enough into the woods to not be seen. He felt guilty for lying to Beverly, but he needed some air, needed time to sober up a bit.

            He leaned against one of the trees, letting his head fall back against the bark and taking a deep breath. His moment of peace didn’t last long before he heard branches cracking, someone walking in his direction. When Richie opened his eyes, he saw the blond that was with Eddie making his way up to Richie’s spot.

            “Um, hi,” The blond sounded shy, but had a deeper voice than Richie had expected. “I’m sorry if this is creepy, but were you looking at me over there?”

            Richie huffed out a bit of laughter, shaking his head. “Sorry, dude, I didn’t mean to impose on you or whatever. I just know Eddie from, uh, a few years back.”

            The blond chewed on his lip, chuckling nervously. “Oh, sorry; I thought you were into me, I guess? And you’re cute, so.”

            Richie felt his eyes grow wide as realization hit him. “Oh shit. Thanks, man, but I didn’t mean it in that way.”

            The blond nodded, clearly downtrodden and embarrassed. In his drunken stupor, Richie new that the kid wasn’t bad looking by any means; in fact, he was pretty handsome. His golden-blond hair was shaggy in a way that it was endearing, with the bluest eyes Richie had ever seen to match. He was quite a few inches shorter than Richie, smaller in stature too. Richie could have him if he wanted, but even in his hazy mind, he knew that it wasn’t right. Even if Eddie now hated him, this was something that he could never do. “Does Eddie know you’re here?”

            The blond looked confused for a moment before shaking his head. “Eddie and I aren’t together, he’s like my brother.”

            Richie let out a breath of relief, eyeing the boy in front of him over. He was wearing a gray hoodie that fit his lanky form with black skinny jeans hugging every curve of his legs, something that made Richie’s dick twitch involuntarily. Before his brain could register what he was doing, Richie was turning them around and pinning the blond to the tree.

            “I-I’m Aaron, by the way,” The kid squeaked out, stuttering over his words.

            “Don’t talk,” Richie mumbled before attaching his lips to Aaron’s, his hands finding their way to the blond’s bony hips.

            Aaron began kissing Richie back after getting over the initial shock, snaking his fingers through Richie’s long locks and pulling. Richie moaned in the back of his throat, pressing his body into the shorter boy’s. He ground his hips into Aaron’s, feeling that the blond was just as hard as he was. Aaron panted as Richie pulled away enough to attach his lips to the kid’s pale throat, sucking on the skin right below his jawline.

            “Fuck,” Aaron whimpered, tugging on Richie’s curls. Richie smirked, slowly moving one hand from the blond’s hip and placing it between his legs, palming the other boy through his tight jeans.

            “Aaron? Aaron are you up here, I thought I saw—“ Richie didn’t acknowledge the crackle of fallen leaves and branches before it was too late, whipping his head around to see Eddie gaping at the two of them in the most compromising position.

            “Eddie?” Richie breathed out, yanking his hand away and distancing himself from the blond boy instantly.

            “Fuck you, Richie,” Eddie had angry tears in the corners of his eyes before backing away and rushing off, making his way back down to the bank. Richie felt his heart drop, sobering up the moment he saw those tears make their way down Eddie’s puffy cheeks.

            “Wait, wait— _you’re_ Richie?” Aaron asked, sounding just as dumbfounded as Richie felt.

            “What about me?” Richie asked, looking back at the blond.

            Aaron’s dropped his face into his hands, sighing. “I just fucked up. I just fucked up, so bad.”

            “Wait, what do you mean? What about me?” Richie demanded, but Aaron ran off in Eddie’s direction, ignoring every question Richie had.


	5. Chapter 5

            Despite how much Bill and Beverly hounded him about it, Richie refused to talk about what happened. Ben had too much empathy to push Richie too far, opting instead to tell him that he was there whenever Richie wanted to talk. Richie appreciated the boy’s quiet, even demeanor, and knew that if he ever did decide to open up to anyone about what happened, he knew that he could trust Ben with it. The rest of that weekend was spent at Bill’s house, hanging out in his room (or living room when his parents weren’t home), and much to Richie’s surprise, Stan had actually made good on his promise to come over that Saturday.

            Monday came too quick for Richie’s comfort, knowing that even though he dreaded it, he’d have to find some way to talk to Eddie about what had happened. That day during study hall, Ben felt his discomfort and anxiety. As much as Richie hated it, he had tells that let someone know when he was anxious. He’d constantly move, even more so than usual, or mess with stuff that he knew he shouldn’t, but couldn’t help it. Ben side-eyed him until the shorter boy couldn’t stand it anymore, firmly putting his hand on Richie’s arm.

            “Talk to me,” Ben demanded, his tone soft but firm.

            “What do you mean?” Richie asked, knowing he sounded just as unconvincing as he felt.

            Ben gave him a look that Richie knew meant ‘I’m not fucking stupid’. Richie sighed, letting his head fall to the desk in front of him with a thud. “I fucked up, and now I have to fix it, but I don’t know how.”

            “What do you mean?” Ben asked, frowning.

            “I don’t wanna go into specifics,” Richie chewed on his lip, looking back up at the other boy. “But I fucked up really bad with someone that I was already on bad terms with to begin with, and now I don’t know how to make it better.”

            “Okay,” Ben started slowly. “So you did something to make Eddie even angrier at you and now you want to know how to get back in our favorite germaphobe’s good graces.”

            Richie gaped at Ben, staying quiet for a few seconds. “How did you…?”

            “Richie,” Ben’s tone was patronizing but gentle. “You’re not that subtle.”

            “Yeah,” Richie grumbled, crossing his arms. “I keep hearing that.”

            “Look”, Ben sighed, facing the taller boy. “Eddie might have a temper, but he’s always been the most patient with you out of all of us, even me—“

            “Thanks,” Richie snorted.

            “—so just talk to him,” Ben finished, ignoring Richie’s comment. “I don’t know what you did or how bad it was, but even if he doesn’t want to see you, you have to find a way to make him listen. You’re pretty good at that.”

            “I don’t know whether to say thank you to that or be offended,” Richie huffed out a breath of laughter, raising an eyebrow at his friend. “But he doesn’t even want to look in my direction, let alone fucking talk to me. He’s always been so goddamn stubborn.”

            “I believe in you,” Ben patted Richie’s arm, placating. “It’s up to you on whether you want to let it go and move on, or get your best friend back.”

 

            Whether it was creepy or not, Richie knew the car that Eddie drove. Every time he and Beverly, or one of their other friends, went out to lunch or hung out in his truck during lunchtime, Eddie had left, too. The car was easy to recognize especially since it was a hand-me-down; whether or not Eddie’s mom actually drove, Richie never knew, but it was always in their driveway during his childhood. During lunch that day, he rushed towards the parking lot and prepared himself mentally for whatever verbal abuse was coming for him as he climbed on top of Eddie’s car and onto the roof. Richie waited, dangling his legs off the side of the roof as he scrolled through his Facebook feed.

            Looking up, he saw Eddie walking towards his car--the angriest Richie had ever seen him. Richie grinned and waved, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Hiya, Eds.”

            “Richie fucking Tozier, get the hell off of my car,” Eddie fumed, standing in front of him.

            Richie sighed, shaking his head. “I can’t do that until you talk to me, Eddie Spaghetti.”

            “Don’t fucking call me that!” Eddie yelled. “What goddamn right do you have to be here? What right do you have to ask that of me, after what you did?”

            “I know,” Richie nodded, swallowing hard. His chest hurt and it hurt watching how upset he’d made Eddie, but he couldn’t back out now. “That’s what I want to talk about.”

            Eddie chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head and rubbing his face with his hands. “I can’t do this with you. You can’t fucking talk your way out of everything, Richie. How can you—“

            “I’m not out yet,” Richie interrupted, catching Eddie off-guard.

            “Excuse me?” Eddie narrowed his eyes, glaring at Richie.

            “I said, I’m not out yet,” Richie explained, taking a deep breath. “Nobody knows but you, Eds, after you walked in on what you did Friday.”

            “Is that what this is about?” Eddie huffed. “You want to make sure I won’t tell anyone because you don’t want to break your reputation as the lady’s man you think you are? Don’t worry, I’m not an asshole like you; I’d never out anyone.”

            “That’s not what I’m worried about, Eddie!” Richie caught himself and Eddie off-guard as he yelled, stunning Eddie silent. He sighed, lowering his voice. “I don’t care if you tell. Fuck, tell everyone if it makes you feel better. But I miss you, you dick, and I know I fucked up, okay? I know I fucked up the night before I left, and I know I fucked up Friday night. I was thirteen and goddamn terrified, okay? But I could have reacted better. I know that.”

            Eddie looked at him wearily for a few minutes, and Richie knew that he was waiting to see if Richie was joking or not. After a few minutes of silence, Eddie sighed, walking closer to the car. “So, like, are you gay? Do you like both, or?”

            Richie sighed in relief, jumping off the roof of the car and in front of Eddie. “I still like tits, don’t get me wrong, but dick’s pretty good, too.”

            Eddie rolled his eyes at Richie’s wording, shaking his head. “You’re so vulgar.”

            A wide grin crept up on Richie’s cheeks, and he felt a sense of happiness he hadn’t experienced in a long time. “Does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?”

            Eddie chewed on his lip, looking up at Richie. Richie took that chance to really look at Eddie, at how much he’d grown up. He was still pretty short for his age, barely breaching 5’8”, but he’d broadened out, his jawline stronger and his shoulders wider. To Richie, he was still as pretty as always, just not as baby-faced anymore.

            “I don’t hate you,” Eddie sighed, the most honest expression Richie had seen since he’d gotten back on Eddie’s face. “Just…it’s gonna take a while for me, okay? It’s been four years, Rich. Don’t expect too much, too soon.”

            Richie nodded, and he knew he was going to have to get used to this. Eddie, at his core, was still that high-strung, asthmatic kid Richie always knew, but he’d grown up a lot, too. Eddie had different friends now, a different life that he’d grown accustomed to Richie not being a part of. “I know, I understand.”

            Eddie nodded, offering a small smile. “Wanna go to lunch with me?”

            Richie beamed at the shorter boy, nodding and walking around to the passengers’ side. “How’s your mom doing, by the way? She been asking about me a lot?”

            Richie cackled as Eddie cursed under his breath, putting his seatbelt on. “Richie fucking Tozier, I swear to God.”

           

            Eddie grimaced as he watched Richie licking mustard off his fingers after he finished his sandwich, throwing a napkin at him. “There are such things as napkins, you animal.”

            Richie grinned at him and pulled his finger out of his mouth with a pop, chuckling. “So what’s gone on with you since I left? How is shit, man?”

            “Well,” Eddie started slowly, thinking over his words. “After you left, with what happened…it was too hard for me to be around the others, anymore—all the time, at least. I had to distance myself from them. I still talk to Bill and Bev every now and again, Ben too, but not a lot.”

            Richie felt guilty, his stomach dropping. He nodded, looking down at the empty Subway wrapper. “I’m sorry, Eds.”

            Eddie shrugged, swallowing hard. “I know. Freshman year, I just kind of…broke, I guess. I got so tired of everyone looking at me as this weak, sickly, paranoid kid, so I came out.”

            “To the group, or?” Richie asked, dumbfounded. Eddie had always been the anxious one, and he’d managed to come out before Richie did. Richie felt angry at himself, but more astonished and proud at his friend.

            “To the entire school,” Eddie grinned at the look on Richie’s face, chuckling. “I was getting picked on by some assholes in the hallway, shoved around, being called a faggot and a ‘girly boy’. I finally just went, ‘yeah, I’m fucking gay, what’s your point’. It stunned them, but I still got my ass beat.”

            “Why didn’t anyone step in?” Richie felt anger boiling up in his gut, clenching his fists.

            “I didn’t really have any friends at the time,” Eddie shrugged it off. “Bill and Bev and the others weren’t around, and the people watching it were more the homophobes’ clique. They just egged it on. But it isn’t like Bill and everyone else didn’t stand up for me, after. They did.”

            “Fuck, I’m sorry, Eds,” Richie apologized again, shaking his head. “I should’ve been there.”

            “Yeah, well,” Eddie sighed, giving Richie a weak smile. “It happened. You can’t really dwell on it.”

            Richie found himself speechless for a few minutes, getting a good look at his friend. Eddie was still himself, sitting there conversing with Richie, but there was so much more to him now. Richie always thought he’d never know what to do if Eddie had changed on him, too, but making up with the shorter boy that day, Richie figured that change wasn’t always a bad thing. Eddie was still loyal and forgiving to a fault, but he was stronger now, too—stronger than Richie had ever seen him. He’d managed to come out fearlessly, not caring what people thought or what happened, because he was tired of not being himself wholly. Richie figured he could take a page out of Eddie’s book, for once.

            “So when’d you start hanging out with Patrick Stump and Melanie Martinez?” Richie asked, smirking.

            Eddie snorted, almost choking on his drink. “You didn’t have a problem with ‘Patrick’ when you had your tongue down his throat.”

            Richie cackled, taken off-guard. “I don’t have a problem, I’m just curious.”

            “They’re siblings,” Eddie explained, chuckling. “Aaron had always gotten shoved around, too, after he came out. They came to me later that day and told me they admired what I did, and they kind of just stuck around.”

            Richie nodded. “I’m glad you have them, man. Just…don’t blame Aaron for what happened, okay? He didn’t know who I was.”

            Eddie sighed, nodding back. “I know, he explained that to me. He’s a good guy; he wouldn’t do something like that on purpose.”

            “Speaking of…” Richie chewed on his lip, frowning. “After you found us and Aaron found out who I was, he started saying that he’d fucked up really bad. What did he mean by that?”

            Eddie’s face fell and he looked down at his hands, and without looking under the table, Richie knew that he was fidgeting with his fingers. “I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

            Richie nodded, not pressing any further, scared to push his luck. And though he hated it, it only made his curiosity that much stronger. “He said you were like his brother, but like, are you into him, or?”

            Eddie smirked, chuckling. “Why, you jealous?”

            Richie waved it off, scoffing. “Nah, man; I just want to make sure I wasn’t a homewrecker or anything.”

            “No, Richie,” Eddie raised an eyebrow, amused. “I’m not into him.”

            Richie wasn’t sure why, but he let out a sigh of relief he didn’t know that he was holding.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING for anyone with eating disorders, suicidal tendencies, or depression.

            They left the restaurant shortly after, Eddie insisting that he didn’t want to be late for their next class. They’d spent half an hour in Subway, catching up and Eddie chastising Richie on his dining etiquette. Richie didn’t mind, though—he welcomed the scolding. In Richie’s mind, half an hour was not nearly enough time to be spent with his friend. They’d had four years put between them, years lost that Richie could’ve been in and watched Eddie grow into the man he was that day. As they pulled into the school parking lot, Eddie unbuckled his seatbelt, and Richie realized that he’d been grinning at the shorter boy.

            “What are you grinning at?” Eddie raised an eyebrow at Richie, weary.

            “You’re just so cute, Eds,” Richie cooed, pinching Eddie’s cheek. He cackled when Eddie smacked his hand away, his face turning red.

            “You _know_ I hate that, you dick,” Eddie complained, smacking Richie on the arm.

            Richie bit back a grin, unbuckling his seatbelt and following Eddie out of the car. “I know.”

            They made their way past Richie’s truck together, and he internally groaned when he saw that Bill and Beverly had been leaning against it, presumably waiting on Richie. Richie began walking towards the two of them, Eddie following shortly behind. Bill looked mildly confused and Bev had a knowing smirk on her face, raising her eyebrow at the duo.

            “We’ve been wondering where you were,” Bev grinned, glancing beside Richie and at Eddie. Her face softened as she looked at the shorter boy, “Hey Eddie.”

            “Hey, Bev,” Eddie smiled wearily, his eyes widening when she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. Eddie was hesitant for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around her thin waist, hugging her back. Richie realized that since Eddie had grown, Beverly was actually a few inches shorter than him now.

            Bill looked up from the scene and at Richie, smiling warmly. Richie smiled back and nodded once, not needing Bill to speak to know what he meant.

            “I’ll catch up with you guys later, okay?” Eddie gave them a half-hearted smile, stuttering over his words. He gave Bill a quick hug before turning to Richie, squeezing his arm tenderly.

            “See you later, Eds,” Richie smiled softly, Eddie nodding in return and turning to head back towards the school.

            As soon as Beverly knew that Eddie was out of earshot, she looked at Richie, grinning at him. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m proud of you.”

            Richie looked over in Eddie’s direction, watching the boy in the light blue sweater grow smaller the further he walked. “I missed him.”

            “I know,” Beverly wrapped an arm around his waist as they began walking towards the school together, wrapping her other arm around Bill. Richie felt a sense of peace in his life that he hadn’t in years, and as much as he wanted to relish in it, somewhere deep down he waited for the other shoe to drop.

 

            The next day during first period, Eddie took the seat next to Richie. Richie eyed Eddie out of the corner of his eye, smirking.

            Eddie tensed his jaw, keeping his eyes towards the front of the classroom, “Richie, no.”

            “You missed me already, Eds; I’m so touched,” Richie put his hand over his heart, sniffling.

            “I suddenly regret my seat change,” Eddie sighed, but Richie grinned, seeing a faint smile form on his friend’s face.

            Halfway through the class period, the teacher’s lecture was interrupted by a commotion out in the hallway, drawing the students’ attention, as well. The teacher closed her book on the podium and opened the classroom door, peeking outside. Her face dropped and she frowned, looking back towards her class. “I’ll be right back; you kids stay quiet.”

            Eddie and Richie glanced at each other as the kids in their class began chattering amongst themselves.

            “What if it’s a school shooter, or something?” One of the boys in the corner of the classroom half-whispered to his friend.

            “That’s not fucking funny.” Eddie gritted out, glaring at the kid. The boy put his hands up in mock surrender, chuckling.

            The teacher came back in a few minutes later, her face pale. She sighed, walking back over to her place in front of the white board.

            “What happened?” A girl in the front row asked, worry lacing her words.

            “One of the students collapsed during class. He had to be taken to the hospital,” The teacher answered, her tone melancholy. “Now, no more questions. Let’s get back to work.”

            Richie felt his stomach stir uncomfortably but he swallowed it down, leaning back in his desk and continuing his drawing on the corner of his paper. The bell rang half an hour later and Richie began shoving his papers into his backpack before following Eddie out of the classroom, the both of them being cut off by Bill as soon as they walked out.

            “G-Guys,” Bill panted, and Richie figured that he’d run to their classroom. “I-It’s St-Stan.”

            Richie felt his entire body freeze, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin. “What?”

            “H-He collapsed in cl-class,” Bill’s blue eyes were wide with worry, and he struggled even more so than usual to form his words. “Th-the ambulance h-had t-to co-come.”

            “We gotta go,” Richie demanded, swallowing hard and heaving his backpack over his shoulder. To his surprise, neither Eddie nor Bill disagreed with him as they made their way to the school’s exit. “Bill, call Bev.”

            “I t-texted he-her,” Bill stuttered out as they made their way to the school parking lot, and Richie sighed in relief when he saw that the redhead was already leaning against his truck waiting for them.

            Beverly didn’t speak as they all climbed into Richie’s truck, her face stoic but solemn. Richie got into the drivers’ seat and turned the truck on, looking back at Eddie in the rearview mirror. “You don’t have to do this; you’ll get in trouble.”

            “Fuck that, it’s Stan,” Eddie bit out, and Richie’s heart dropped when he saw tears in the corners of his friend’s eyes.

            Luckily, there was only one hospital in Derry, nearly twenty minutes away from the school. Beverly texted Mike and Ben on the way there, telling them what had happened. Richie could feel eyes on him the entire drive there, but no one spoke—they knew that they were all thinking the same thing. As soon as Richie pulled into the parking lot, everyone was out of their seat and rushing towards the entrance. They made their way to the front desk to find a plump, older woman sitting behind it, typing on the computer.

            “Which room is Stanley Uris in?” Richie asked, tapping his fingers against the desk nervously.

            “Are you family?” The woman asked, raising an eyebrow at the unruly teenager in front of her.

            “No, but he’s like our brother,” Richie demanded. “We need in there.”

            “I’m sorry, I can’t let you in unless you’re family,” The woman wouldn’t budge, and Richie felt irritation and anger thrum against every one of his nerves.

            Eddie placed a hand on Richie’s arm, ushering him out of the way. Richie looked at him questionably, but Eddie ignored him. Eddie stepped in front of the woman, offering him her most charming smile, “Hi, Mrs. Cassidy.”

            The woman’s face softened as she looked up at Eddie. “Eddie, hi; how’s your mom doing?”

            “She’s fine, Mrs. Cassidy,” Eddie placated her, his voice smooth. “But let’s not beat around the bush, here. You and my mom have been friends for a long time. I go to school with your son, and mom tells me everything. Now, unless you want your boss knowing your son steals narcotics from your purse and sells them like candy to the kids at school, I’d suggest you tell us what room our friend is in, alright?”

            Eddie gave the woman a sickly sweet grin as all the blood drained from her face. She cleared her throat and looked down at the computer, typing for a few seconds before looking back up, “Room 201, down the hall and to your left.”

            “Thank you,” Eddie smiled at her before he began walking off, the rest of them trailing behind him in stunned silence.

            “Eddie,” Richie huffed out a breath of surprised laughter. “What the fuck was that?”

            Eddie shrugged, turning the corner. “She’s been stealing from the hospital for years, and her son’s been stealing from her. My mom’s gossip has perks.”

            “When did you become a badass?” Bev snorted, elbowing Eddie in the side. Eddie’s face turned a slight shade of pink as he shrugged the compliment off, stopping in front of room 201.

            Richie held his breath as Eddie slowly pushed the door open, and he thought he might vomit at the sight before them. Stan laid small and sickly in the hospital bed, hooked up to an IV drip filled with a medicine Richie couldn’t name. Stan’s skin was pale and his face was sallow; he looked worse than Richie had ever seen him.

            Stan cracked an eye open at the group in front of him, confusion evident on his face. He blinked a few times before his eyes grew wide, recognition hitting him. His voice was dry and quiet. “What are you guys doing here?”

            “Stan,” Eddie’s voice was small and broken as he quickly made his way over to the Jewish boy, sitting in the chair beside his bed.

            The rest of them followed closely behind, surrounding the small boy. Stan slowly pushed himself into an upright position, looking around at all of them.

            “St-Stan, wha-what happened?” Bill stuttered out, looking like he was on the verge of tears. He gingerly sat at the edge of Stan’s bed, making sure not to bump into him.

            Richie felt his stomach drop as he watched Stan’s eyes fill with tears, refusing to make eye contact with any of them. Stan swallowed hard, looking down at his hands in shame. “I haven’t been okay in a long time.”

            Richie sat on the arm of the chair Eddie took residence in, at a loss for words for the first time in his life. Eddie sensed his discomfort, his nimble fingers clutching onto Richie’s pants leg. Richie tensed up as a sob escaped Stan’s throat and he started crying heavily, burying his face in his hands. Beverly and Bill quickly flanked the Jewish boy and clung to him, making sure not to tug on his IV. Richie followed closely behind as Eddie took Bill’s prior seat, rubbing Stan’s leg in an attempt to sooth him.

            Stan cried for what seemed like ten minutes before his sobs turned into light hiccups. Stan waited to begin speaking until he could trust his voice not to give out, his tone almost a whisper. “It started with the nightmares. We all had them, y’know? I knew that. But it seemed like everyone had moved on with their lives, like you guys were okay. I don’t like talking about my problems, I never have. I’m supposed to be stronger than that; I’m supposed to be _okay_.”

            Everyone stayed quiet as Stan gathered his thoughts. Beverly sat next to him on the bed, holding his bony hand. Stan clutched her hand hard before he continued. “It just kept getting worse. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat. I didn’t have control over anything. My parents…they always made the decisions for me, they still do. For fuck’s sake, my dad chose what colleges I’m applying to this year. Every time I closed my eyes, it didn’t matter if I only slept for ten minutes, _it was there_. I couldn’t eat without everything coming back up, and I just kept losing weight.”

            Stan sniffled and Richie thought that he was going to begin sobbing again, but he held control, pushing on. “I thought that was the one thing I had control over, out of everything—what I ate, when I ate. So I didn’t. But it just kept getting worse, and I realized that I’d even lost control over that.”

            Richie bit back the tears he felt in the corner of his eyes, swallowing hard. He looked up at Bill and realized that he’d already been crying, tear tracks staining his cheeks. Stan took a deep, shaky breath. “So I…I tried, left a fucking note in my room and everything.”

            “What did you do, Stan?” Beverly almost whispered, clutching his hand so hard her knuckles turned white.

            Tears made their way down Stan’s cheeks, his jaw tensing. “I slit my wrists in the bathtub. But my dad found me, and you know what he said? He told me that if I ever tried that again, he’d send me away—that he wasn’t going to have any son of his burning in hell because he killed himself.”

            Richie felt a rage like he’d never felt before bubbling up in his stomach before he stood up, clenching his fists. Stan’s eyes grew wide and Eddie grabbed Richie’s fist in his hand, pulling him down with a surprising amount of strength. Eddie pulled Richie’s face closer to his, whispering harshly in his ear, “Not here, Richie.”

            Richie took a deep breath, nodding before he sat back down next to Eddie. Eddie laced his fingers through Richie’s, keeping him grounded.

            “Wh-What about y-your mom?” Bill asked quietly, rubbing Stan’s forearm. Richie followed Bill’s line of sight, seeing the deep, white scarring on Stan’s wrists.

            To everyone’s surprise, Stan huffed out a breath of laughter. “She started bawling when the hospital called her and she came over. I…I finally told her everything that happened, what dad said. She told me she was kicking him out of the house. She’s there, right now, picking up some of my clothes and probably chewing him out.”

            Richie felt a grin creeping up on his cheeks before he could stop it. Richie looked down to see Eddie chuckling, and before he knew it, a ghost of a smile was on Stan’s face.

            “You should’ve talked to us,” Beverly laughed wetly, trying to sniffle back the tears that were still pouring down her cheeks. “You should’ve talked to us, Stan; we’ve always been here.”

            Bill pulled Stan’s face into his chest as Stan began sobbing again, his smile disappearing. “I didn’t want to bother you; I didn’t want to bother anybody.”

           

            Richie sat out in his truck, the door open and his legs dangling out of the side as he took a drag off of the cigarette lit between shaky fingers. He looked up to see Eddie making his way to the truck, sighing. Richie chewed on his lip as Eddie stood in front of him, the shorter boy taking the cigarette out of Richie’s hand and tossing it to the side.

            “Hey, those are expensive,” Richie frowned as Eddie stood in front of him, crossing his arms.

            “They’re not worth your lungs,” Eddie complained, looking down at Richie with concern. “This isn’t your fault, you know.”

            “How?” Richie sniffled, rubbing his face with his hands. “How is it not? You guys had to stay here and deal with your shit; I just ran off. I should’ve fucking been here, for you, for him, for everyone.”

            Richie jerked in surprise when Eddie took his face between his hands, forcing Richie to look up at him. “We all dealt with it in different ways, Richie. You moved, I left everyone behind, Mike threw himself into sports. Nobody blames you.”

            Richie swallowed hard, taking a deep, shaky breath. Before he could react, Eddie was stepping between his legs and throwing his arms around Richie’s neck, hugging him tightly. Richie found himself clutching Eddie’s sweater in his fists and burying his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck, sniffling. Eddie shushed him and threaded his hand in Richie’s hair, attempting to soothe him.

            “Nobody blames you, Rich,” Eddie whispered, resting his chin on the top of Richie’s head. “We all went through the same thing.”

            They stayed like that for a few minutes, silent and consoling. Richie sighed in disappointment when Eddie pulled back, swallowing hard. Richie looked up in surprise when Eddie threaded his fingers through Richie’s, tugging on his arm. “Let’s go inside. Ben and Mike are here, they brought Taco Bell for everybody.”  


	7. Chapter 7

            For the next hour and a half they sat at the hospital, keeping Stan company. Beverly and Bill flanked Stan on either side of the bed, squishing him in the tight space, but the Jewish boy looked comfortable nonetheless. Mike sat in one of the chairs to the left of the hospital bed, keeping conversation with the three of them and making Stan double over in laughter—something Richie was grateful for. Richie looked over from his space on the window sill to see Ben and Eddie huddled together on the small sofa in the back of the room, Ben’s backpack unzipped and multiple books open around him.

            “Are you two actually doing homework right now?” Richie asked, gaping.

            “Some of us care about our grades, Richie,” Eddie didn’t bother looking up from the paper in front of him, chewing his lip in concentration. “Just because we’re not in school today, that doesn’t mean I’m falling behind.”

            “Yeah, and aren’t _you_ supposed to be my partner on this project?” Ben raised an eyebrow at the curly-headed boy, a hint of amusement on his face.

            “I still can’t believe you guys skipped school for me,” Stan shook his head lovingly at his friends, but there was a hint of guilt to his words. “You’re all gonna get in trouble.”

            Ben looked like he was going to vomit at the idea of getting reprimanded, but Richie knew that he didn’t regret his choices. Eddie looked pale at the idea himself, and though Richie knew Eddie’s anxiety was tearing him up inside, Eddie shrugged, looking back down at his paper. “You’re our friend and you’re sick. Some things are more important than our attendance record.”

            They all looked up at the sound of the door opening, seeing a woman around Richie’s mother’s age walking in, carrying a few bags. She began to speak until she saw the litter of teenagers sprawled out across the room, her eyes growing wide. Stan’s face flushed in worry.

            “I didn’t know you had company,” She looked at Stan, her voice polite but strained.

            “They’re my friends, mom,” Stan kept his voice calm, and Richie noticed how tired the woman looked.

            Stan’s mother stayed quiet for a few seconds before nodding and setting the bags down in the corner of the room, presumably filled with clothes and anything else they’d need. Stan had told them that he’d have to stay in the hospital for at least a few days longer to keep an eye on his health, and that they’d recommended a therapist to his mother. They all knew that his road to recovery wasn’t going to be a short one, but Richie just thanked his lucky stars that his friend was finally getting the help that he needed.

            “W-We co-could go, if y-you want,” Bill offered, smiling politely at Stan’s mother.

            The woman chewed her lip for a second before nodding and smiling back at Bill. “He just looks tired, and it’s been a long day.”

            They all nodded in understanding and began packing their stuff, Ben and Eddie shoving their work back in their backpacks. She took Bill’s spot next to her son, stroking his hair lovingly before looking back up at all of them. “You guys can come back any time you want, though. Thank you for being here for him.”

            Stan looked up at her in surprise before smiling softly. One by one, they all gave him a hug bye, Richie being the last. He hugged Stan before kissing him on the forehead and looking down at him seriously. “Sleep well, sweet prince.”

            Richie cackled as Stan smacked his arm, snorting. “Go home, Richie.”

            Even Stan’s mother laughed, telling them goodbye before they left the room. They checked the time as they left the hospital, realizing that it was around lunch time at school. Richie knew what they were in for at the end of the day, but he was no stranger to detention. He knew that Beverly wasn’t, either, but the rest of them were a different story. Eddie and Ben had always been star pupils, never getting on a teacher’s bad side. Bill was always too quiet in class to ever get in trouble, and Mike—though being one of the sports—always got some of the best grades Richie had ever seen.

            Ben, Bill, and Eddie had to call and let their parents know that they’d have to stay late after school. None of them told their parents it was for detention, however, and that they’d be in it for the next week. Ben and Eddie had told their mothers that it was for some kind of academic group, and Bill told his that it was for art club. Mike’s football coach was definitely not happy that his after-school time would be filled for the next week, but Beverly was just honestly glad that she had something to do other than go home. Richie understood her on that level.

            “Don’t talk, stay in your seats, and find something productive to do for the next two hours,” The teacher that was assigned to watch over them during detention looked and sounded just as bored as they were, looking at the kids in his room. There were two other kids in detention with them, ones Richie didn’t recognize. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

            The teacher left the room and it was silent for a few seconds before Eddie started chuckling quietly, the pitch of it slowly growing in volume until he was full-on laughing. Richie, as well as the others, looked at him in confusion and amusement.

            “What’s so funny?” Richie raised an eyebrow at him.

            “The first time I’ve ever seen the inside of detention,” Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. “And it’s with you assholes.”

            Bill snorted in surprise, biting his lip until he was laughing, too. It was a chain reaction and soon enough, they were all doubled over in laughter, Richie wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. They quieted down the moment that the teacher cracked the door open and peeked his head in, looking at all of them with suspicion, before walking off down the hallway again.

            Richie pulled his chair out and put his feet up on the desk, crossing his arms and yawning. Eddie took the cap sitting backwards on Richie’s head and smacked him with it, glaring. “Feet off the desk, Bender; this isn’t _The Breakfast Club_ , and you’ll get the rest of us in trouble.”

            “’Sweets, you couldn’t ignore me if you tried’,” Richie winked at Eddie, laughing as Eddie threw his cap back at the curly-headed boy and looked down at his book, trying to pretend that his cheeks weren’t turning the brightest shade of pink.

 

            “I don’t wanna go home,” Richie whined as they made their way out to the parking lot. Detention had just ended and everyone was leaving, and though he didn’t want to specify why, Richie dreaded going home. Mike had to go and get the few hours of practice he could in, Bill’s parents still had him on a short leash for being seventeen-years-old and Ben wanted to get his homework done.

            “Richie, you know my mom will kill me if I don’t get home,” Eddie turned to Richie as they got to his car.

            “But Mrs. K loves me,” Richie leaned against the side of Eddie’s car, waggling his eyebrows. “I’ll distract her for you.”

            “Oh my God, Richie, just give me your fucking phone,” Eddie sighed, glaring at the taller boy.

            Richie raised an eyebrow but did as Eddie said, visually confused. Eddie took the phone from Richie’s hands and typed a few things in before handing it back and opening the drivers’ side door. “Text me if you get bored or something; it’s better than hearing you whining in person.”

            “Eddie,” Richie put a hand on his chest, feigning shock. “If you were that into me, you should’ve just said something.”

            “Richie, no,” Eddie rolled his eyes, climbing into his car.

            “You can’t hide our love, Eddie,” Richie yelled as Eddie closed the door, glaring at him through the window. “The world needs it at times like this!”

            “Goodbye, Richie!” Eddie yelled, flipping Richie off as he turned the car on and pulled out of his parking spot.

            Richie chuckled to himself as he walked towards where Bill was still parked, seeing Beverly leaned against the van and talking him.

            “Eddie won’t let you stay up his ass for the rest of the day?” Bev asked, smirking.

            “Love the choice of words,” Richie snorted, pulling out his Marlboros, “But no.”

            “I’ll chill with you,” Beverly bumped her shoulder against Richie’s playfully. “Billy Boy’s gotta get home anyways.”

            “I’ll ta-talk to you g-guys later,” Bill told them goodbye before he pulled out of the parking lot, leaving them as they headed towards Richie’s truck.

            A few hours later, Beverly and Richie sat at a park a few streets down from Richie’s house, sitting side-by-side on the swings. It had already gotten dark outside and the only sources of light were the moon and a dim lamp post yards away from them. Normally, Richie would be talking until he winded himself to anyone who would listen. Beverly was always different, though—he never felt the need around her, which is why when there was something that actually needed to be said, he came to her. They passed a cigarette back and forth as she swung her feet, which didn’t reach the ground beneath them.

            “I’ve known Eddie was gay since before I left,” Richie started, exhaling the smoke from his lungs. He didn’t need to look at her to know that she’d stopped swinging her feet, and was now paying attention to him. He passed the cigarette back to her. “The night before I left, you know how you guys spent the night?”

            “Yeah,” She nodded, finishing the cigarette off and tossing it to the dirt below.

            “You guys had already fallen asleep, but I couldn’t. I think Eddie knew that so he stayed awake with me,” He drew in the dirt with the tip of his already-dirty Converse, looking down. “I don’t know why I said it, but I think maybe I just needed to get it off my chest before I left. It was meant as a distraction, y’know? Neither one of us wanted to talk about me moving. So I told him I’d never actually kissed anyone before.”

            He pulled out his pack, noticing there were only two left. He lit one anyway, needing something to calm his nerves. “He admitted to me that he never had, either—which was pretty obvious; no one could sneeze in the same room as the kid without him having a panic attack, let alone locking lips with anyone. I don’t know where he got the guts, but he kissed me.”

            He looked in Beverly’s direction to see that she didn’t look phased. Richie chuckled, shaking his head. “It caught me completely off-guard, and it only lasted a few seconds, but I kissed him back. Afterwards, I freaked the fuck out, told him that we had to forget that it ever happened, never talk about it again. I was thirteen and my best friend who was also a _dude_ had just kissed me, and I liked it. But it hurt his feelings so bad, and it never occurred to me that to him, it probably looked like I was being homophobic.”

            It stayed quiet for a little while as he finished off his cigarette, the only noise around them being the creaking of the rusty swing set as Beverly swung her feet. “So you like guys. Does Eddie know, y’know, besides you guys’ rom-com moment?”

            Richie snorted, nodding. “Yeah, I think he figured that out when he walked in on me feeling up Blond and Brooding at the bonfire.”

            Beverly laughed in surprise, shaking her head. “Fuck, Richie. I’m guessing you came out to him after.”

            “Yeah,” Richie took his cap off, adjusting his hair before pulling it on backwards once more. “Climbed on top of his car and wouldn’t move until he talked to me.”

            “Jesus Christ,” Beverly laughed, looking over at Richie. “I guess that’s one way to do it. Does anyone else know?”

            Richie shook his head, “Nah, just you and Eds.”

            “Well,” Beverly stuck her hand out towards Richie, smiling softly at him. “It’s safe with me. That’s not my story to tell.”

            Richie reached his hand out and entwined his fingers with hers, swinging slightly along with her, “I know.”

 

            That night, as Richie laid in bed, he pulled out his phone and scrolled down to Eddie’s contact. He opened his text messages and began typing.

            **Richie:** _I don’t wanna close my eyes_

It was a few minutes before Richie’s phone vibrated, and Richie snorted to himself as he read Eddie’s text.

            **Eds:** _go to sleep Richie, it’s midnight_

            **Richie:** _I don’t wanna fall asleep_

**Eds:** _yeah, I noticed, but I_ do _wanna fall asleep_

**Richie:** _cause I miss you Eddie, and I don’t wanna miss a thing_

Richie bit back laughter as he read Eddie’s next text message.

            **Eds:** _are you fucking sending me Aerosmith lyrics, at midnight, on a school night_

**Richie:** _cause even when I dream of you, the sweetest dreams will never do_

**Eds:** _I’m turning my phone on silent, goodnight Richie_

**Richie:** _I’ll be dreaming of you Eddie Spaghetti :*_

Richie set his phone on his nightstand and curled up underneath the covers, feeling like he’d just had one of the best days he’d had in a long time.


	8. Chapter 8

            Stan had gotten out of the hospital three days later. He’d been assigned to see a therapist twice a week, and though the idea seemed to chafe at him, it had been a weight off of the entire Losers’ shoulders. Stan’s choices, seeing as he wasn’t eighteen yet, were to go to a rehabilitation clinic for eating disorders or to see his therapist as suggested, according to Stan’s mother. The idea of a rehab vacation made Stan blue in the face, so he suffered through the lesser of two evils. That Thursday when Richie had gone to see Stan after detention, he walked into the hospital room to see none other than Bill Denbrough curled up to the Jewish boy’s side, both teenagers asleep with Stan’s arm wrapped around Bill’s shoulder. He’d backed out of the room quietly, but not before taking a picture and sending it to Beverly.

            **Richie:** -image attachment- _“Big Bill” and “Stan the Man”_

**Bev:** _that’s now my wallpaper, thank you_

Richie’s mother had been seeing a new man lately, Tom or Tim Something-Or-Other—Richie hadn’t cared enough to remember. On the surface, the man had seemed nice enough, but Richie had always been good at reading people. At his core, Tom/Tim/Dickweed was sleazy, and Richie knew it. Whether it was the gait of his walk, the mustache that was barely peach-fuzz or the way that he called Richie “kiddo”, Richie couldn’t stand to be in the man’s presence. He’d met him twice now, and both times, his mother stayed overnight after their “dates”. His mother’s head was in the clouds, but Richie couldn’t be angrier. When it was just the two of them at home, she was either drunk, on her way to drunk, or asleep. She hardly acknowledged her son’s presence, yet she had no qualms running off with a man she’d only known for a few months. That Friday afternoon, she walked into the living room, setting down a few packed bags on the sofa. Her hair and makeup had been done, and inwardly, Richie felt his heart clench.

            “Tommy’s taking me on a vacation this weekend,” She announced, beaming and pulling her heels on.

            _Oh,_ Richie thought. _So it was Tom._ “Mhmm, so is it gonna be Motel 6 or the Townhouse?”

            “Don’t be an ass, Rich,” She glared at him, pulling the flask out of her purse and taking a swig. “Tom’s a gentleman.”

            “Is that why you’re taking shots before he picks you up?” Richie propped his feet up on the coffee table, raising an eyebrow at her.

            Their attention was drawn to a horn honking outside. Richie watched his mother pull her bags over her shoulder, rushing to the door. “I’ll be back on Sunday, and get your feet off the table!”

            “What, do my shoes not match the ashtray or something?” Richie looked her in the eye and slouched further onto the couch, crossing his feet.

            She scoffed at him, shaking her head and muttering something that sounded like “insufferable kid” before walking out the door. Richie sighed as he heard the door slam shut, cradling his head in his hands. He hated her, or more so, he hated that he still _cared_ about her. She hadn’t always been terrible; he still had memories of her smiling when she was sober, playing with him in the yard when he was a kid. She’d always been a social drinker, but the drinking only got heavier as she and his father started fighting more and more. He hated his mother for treating him like he wasn’t there, he hated his father for acknowledging that he was there but criticizing his every move—and he hated both of them for his laundry list of issues. He would never admit it out loud, but Richie was never good at being alone.

            He cursed under his breath at himself as he looked around the empty house, and before he could stop himself, he was walking to the refrigerator and pulling out a beer. Bill was probably with Beverly or Stan right now; Ben was probably up in his bedroom, writing or reading. He knew that Mike had football practice; but it didn’t matter, either way. He wouldn’t bother them with his problems; they didn’t need his when they had their own. He flipped through hundreds of TV channels, polishing off his second beer before his impulsive nature got the best of him. Pulling Eddie’s contact up on his phone, he called the brunet.

            Eddie answered after the third ring. “Richie?”

            “Hey, Eds,” Richie smiled to himself at the boy’s voice, popping the top off another beer.

            “What’s going on?” Eddie asked, slight confusion in his voice.

            “Mom’s not home,” Richie took a drink, burping loudly. “She’s with her new boyfriend.”

            “Are you drunk?” Eddie asked incredulously. “Also, excuse you.”

            “Not drunk, trying to get there,” Richie leaned his head against the back of the couch.

            “Okay,” Eddie sighed. “Call me when you’re sober, Richie.”

            “No, no, no!” Richie stuttered before Eddie could hang up, sighing. “Do you…will you come over, Eds?”

            Richie wasn’t sure if it was the tone of his voice, or if Eddie could simply sense his mood, but Eddie groaned, caving in. “Alright, gimme twenty minutes. I’ll tell my mom I’m going to Bill’s or something.”

            Before Richie could thank him, Eddie had hung up. He downed the rest of the beer and put the bottle next to the others, pulling out his pack of Marlboros. He’d been jacking packs from his mother’s carton since he was twelve, sharing with Bill and occasionally Ben, who wound up admitting that he hated the taste and he’d only been doing it to win Richie’s alliance when they’d first met. Richie supposed that Bill probably didn’t think that the habit would stick, just like it had with Beverly. When he couldn’t steal from his mother anymore after he moved, he’d gotten pretty chummy with quite a few seniors in his previous school. He relished the idea of the day he turned eighteen, when he wouldn’t have to rely on anybody.

            Twenty minutes later, almost precisely on the dot, he heard Eddie’s car pull up in the driveway. He got up off the couch and unlocked the door, seeing Eddie standing on the porch with a bag slung over his shoulder. Eddie took one look at him and sighed, walking past Richie and into the house. Richie followed behind him, watching him set his bag on the couch and sit next to it. Looking around at the dreary house, Richie knew that his and Eddie’s homes were vastly different. Eddie’s house was always _spotless_ , something his mother had instilled in him since practically birth. Eddie, himself, never even looked like he had a lazy day. His hair was always perfectly styled, and Richie doubted he even owned an article of clothing with a stain on it. Part of Richie wanted to feel self-conscious, looking at the coffee table with remnants of ash, beer bottles, and food wrappers strewn about. But deep down, he knew he’d never have to worry about judgment on Eddie’s part. Eddie might make jokes, or probably even try and clean the mess, but he’d never judge Richie. He never had.

            Richie walked to the refrigerator and pulled out another beer, earning a scowl from Eddie. “Must you?”

            “Why, you want one?” Richie smirked, quirking an eyebrow at the brunet.

            “My mother would literally kill me,” Eddie looked at Richie like he’d just asked what color the sky was. Richie shrugged.

            “What Mrs. K don’t know won’t hurt her,” Richie waggled his eyebrows in Eddie’s direction.

            Eddie looked back and forth between Richie and the twelve-pack in the refrigerator for a moment before falling back against the couch, rolling his eyes. “If she finds out about this, I’m calling peer pressure.”

            Richie cackled before grabbing the entire pack and walking back into the living room, setting it down on the coffee table before them and popping a bottle open for Eddie. Eddie took one sip and made a distressed sound, looking disgusted. “God, this shit’s gross. How do you drink it?”

            Richie shrugged one shoulder, taking a drink of his own. “Just don’t think about it.”

 

            An hour later, both boys laid on their backs in Richie’s backyard, the twelve-pack nearly gone. The late September air sent goosebumps up Richie’s arms and somewhere in the back of his mind he regretted not bringing out a hoodie, but his entire body felt too fuzzy to move. He looked over at Eddie, the shorter boy’s hands curled up behind his head in a makeshift pillow. Richie’s line of vision focused on the delicate-yet-matured curvature of Eddie’s face, the strong set of his jaw and his deep brown eyes staring up at the dark sky above them, lost in thought. Eddie was still small in comparison, but he was no longer scrawny. He had weight to him, now. Richie watched the other boy’s chest rise and fall with every breath he took, and distantly Richie wondered what his heartbeat sounded like. Drunkenly, he thought it’d be better if he never found out; he could imagine Eddie’s heartbeat becoming his favorite sound.

            “I don’t regret it, you know,” The words tumbled out of Richie’s mouth before he could stop himself, his lack of a filter reducing to none in his inebriated state.

            “Hmm?” Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed as he turned to look at Richie.

            “The kiss,” Richie swallowed hard, looking back up towards the sky. “I don’t regret it.”

            A look of clarity flashed on Eddie’s face before his cheeks turned a deep pink. He seemed at a loss for words as Richie glanced back over at him, looking over Eddie’s stunned expression. Richie’s mouth cracked into a grin as he covered his heart with his hand, batting his eyelashes at his best friend. Suddenly, he was a fair young maiden, swooning over her knight-in-shining-cardigan. “A fine fella like you, tryin’ to court a maiden such as I. Whatever shall we tell your mother?”

            Eddie swatted at Richie’s chest as he cackled, trying to cover himself from the asthmatic’s attack. “You’re such an asshole, Richie, oh my God.”

            Eddie sat up and kept slapping Richie, keeping him on his back until they were both laughing so hard that they were crying, matching grins plastered on both of their alcohol-ridden red faces. As the laughter died down, Richie froze when Eddie laid his head on Richie’s chest, sighing in contentment. After he was sure Eddie wasn’t going to move, he slowly snaked an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Eddie shuffled until their bodies were pressed together, the heat radiating off of the shorter boy’s body making Richie shiver.

            “You’re not alone, Richie,” Eddie’s voice was muffled by Richie’s chest, but Richie had heard him loud and clear.

            Sometimes, Richie thought he and Eddie were tethered together by some invisible force. Richie had never understood how or why, and it wasn’t like no one else cared about him, but Richie knew that Eddie understood the inner workings of his mind. It was never talked about, never brought up, but besides Bill, Eddie was one of the most calming people that Richie knew. He didn’t feel as frantic; he didn’t feel like he had to scream for his attention. Whenever they were together, he already knew that he had it. Eddie knew the connotation behind every joke that Richie cracked, the meaning behind the theatric behavior, even when Richie himself didn’t understand it—and to Richie that was still one of the most baffling things.

            That night, they both laid in Richie’s bed, with Eddie snoring softly a few inches away from Richie. Eddie’s hair was mussed from the wrestling in the yard and moving in his sleep; he’d crashed out half an hour before, Richie having to pull the comforter on top of him since he was out cold. Finally, after nearly an hour of restlessness, Richie began dozing off. Right before he fell asleep, he felt Eddie shuffle closer and bury his face in Richie’s side, his warm breath on Richie’s bare skin the basis of Richie’s dreams.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: sexual content
> 
> I know this chapter is fairly short, but more coming soon!

            _Richie felt safe, safer than he could ever remember feeling. There was a sort of drunken lucidity buzzing in his veins, like tumbling under the tidal waves in an ocean storm; like he knew that he was drowning, but his body was swimming and he was floating, so he could care less. He would drown in that feeling and he would die happy. He could feel the crackling of the thunder every time Eddie took a deep, shaky breath; he felt another wave take him down again every time Eddie’s tongue brushed against his, unexperienced and sloppy and_ perfect. _It was too much yet not enough all at once. He wanted to push Eddie off and run away at the same time that he wanted to drag him closer, drag him under the water with him. Richie wanted Eddie to drown, too._

_It was humid in the room, too hot underneath the thick comforter but it was the only thing keeping Richie grounded. If that comforter came off, his safe place was gone and it was no longer a dream; it would become real, and reality wasn’t something that Richie could deal with at that moment. He wanted to stay in this dream world, where he was allowed to enjoy the feeling of his best friend’s lips against his own, where there would be no repercussions for their actions—where he wasn’t scared to be in that unchartered territory. He could feel Eddie’s warm breath against his own flesh, the distant smell of peppermint toothpaste slowly bringing him back down to Earth. It was all over too quick, what felt like hours only lasting about ten seconds—but that was all it took. Richie had water in his lungs, and he knew that he’d left his heart at the bottom of that ocean._

“Richie.”

            Richie groaned, his arm tightening around the warm body next to his. He buried his face in the soft tuft of hair in front of him, sighing in contentment.

            “ _Richie._ ”

            Richie woke with a start to a sharp pain in his side, rolling over and whining. He cracked an eye open to see Eddie glaring at him, his hair sticking up in every which way and a red spot on his cheek where he’d been sleeping. Hazily, Richie thought he looked like an angry puppy. “Why’d you elbow me, man? Fuck, what’d I do?”

            Eddie raised an eyebrow and slowly looked down to where Richie’s waist and legs were covered by the sheets. Richie followed his line of vision to the tent between his legs before realization donned on him and he snorted, cackling at Eddie’s expression. “I’m sorry, baby; I just can’t help myself around you.”

            Eddie’s eyes grew wide and a dark pink hue bloomed on his cheeks before Richie found himself with a face full of pillow. “Yeah, well, control yourself; it’s not the greatest thing to wake up to in the morning when it’s poking you in the back.”

            Richie sat up in the bed, the sheets falling off of his bare chest as he reached over to his nightstand and placed a Marlboro between his lips. He smirked at his best friend, winking. “You’re just too pretty, Eddie Spaghetti.”

            In his half-asleep state, Eddie looked over Richie, his eyes trailing down his torso and stopping where the sheet covered the lower half of his body. When he met Richie’s eyes again, his face turned even pinker and he cleared his throat.

            “You okay, Eds?” Richie raised an eyebrow at him as he lit his cigarette, amused.

            “Y-Yeah,” Eddie stood up and walked over to his bag, talking over his shoulder. “Don’t call me that—and stop with the death sticks, you’re gonna get lung cancer.”

            Richie watched Eddie drag a pair of folded jeans and a dark blue hoodie out of his bag, laying them on the bed. He turned to where Richie couldn’t see the front of his body, pulling the shirt he’d slept in off. Richie felt his mouth go dry as he noticed a bit of actual muscle lacing his shoulders, bending and contorting with him as he pulled his dirty jeans off, as well. Eddie had been wearing black boxer-briefs, clinging to him like a second skin. They’d been changing in front of each other nearly all their lives; all of the guys did. Richie had always thought Eddie was beautiful in his own way, with his face as pretty and soft as a girl’s—but not in the way that people bullied him by calling him “girly boy”. He was pretty in the way that should’ve been appreciated, not ridiculed. But this time, Richie wasn’t sure why, was different; after everything that had happened the night before Richie left, and everything that had happened the previous night, Richie found himself wanting to _feel_ Eddie’s back muscles rippling underneath his fingertips. He swallowed hard.

            Eddie began pulling his jeans on, buttoning them up and turning to face Richie. He frowned when he saw the look on Richie’s face. “What?”

            Richie bit his bottom lip and raised his eyebrows at the shirtless brunet in front of him, making a show of looking him up and down. “What, not gonna change your boxers?”

            Eddie’s eyes grew wide and Richie noticed with great appreciation that when he blushed, it reached all the way down his throat. He’d have to start keeping score; it was now Richie’s personal game to see how many times a day he could make Eddie blush. Richie snorted when Eddie quickly pulled his hoodie on, stumbling multiple times and accidentally putting his arms through the wrong holes. “Not in front of you, asshole; keep your eyes to yourself.”

            Richie threw his head back in laughter, stubbing out his cigarette in an empty Coke can on the nightstand. He stood up and stretched, noticing that Eddie was making a deliberate attempt not to look at him.

            Eddie zipped his clothes back up in his bag and threw it over his shoulder as they made their way into the kitchen, watching Richie put a fresh pot of coffee on. “Are you gonna put a shirt on?”

            “Why? You don’t want me to,” Richie shrugged, hopping up on the island.

            Eddie rolled his eyes, trying to hide the slightest hint of a smirk making its way onto his face. Richie grinned cheekily at him, swinging his legs a few inches above the ground.

            Eddie’s phone beeped in his back pocket and he pulled it out, reading the text message he had gotten and chewing on his lip nervously. Groaning, he put it back in his pocket and looked up. “I’ve gotta get home.”

            “You hurt my heart, Eddie,” Richie sniffled in mock-sadness, but hopped off of the island and followed him to the front door. Eddie stepped onto the front porch and turned to look at Richie, the taller of the two leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. “Really, though; thank you for coming over last night.”

            Eddie nodded, offering a soft smile to Richie, “No problem. I’m glad you called me.”

            Before Eddie could react, Richie was wrapping a large hand lightly around his hip and leaning down, giving Eddie’s cheek the softest of kisses. When he pulled back, Eddie was gaping at him, his lips forming around sentences that wouldn’t come out.

            “You’re so _cute_ ,” Richie cooed, pinching Eddie’s cheek and grinning.

            “God, you _know_ I hate that,” Eddie swatted his hand away and rolled his eyes before turning to leave, but not without looking back over his shoulder with a small, shy smile on his face. Richie watched his best friend drive off before heading back inside, the weather chilling his naked torso. Leaning back against the front door, he sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. He’d wanted to kiss his best friend again; he’d wanted to do _more_. He’d wanted to see how Eddie’s bare, olive skin felt beneath his fingertips. Richie knew that the kid was a natural heater, he’d burned up half of the night where Eddie stuck to him like glue; but he didn’t mind it at all, he’d happily invite it to happen more. If sweating through the night was the price to pay for waking up to Eddie’s face—annoyed or not—he’d gladly burn, and that revelation scared him more than anything.

            Richie looked down and sighed when he realized that he was in the same position he woke up in that morning, the tight construct of his jeans nearly painful. Biting his lip, he unbuttoned his jeans and slipped his hand inside, whimpering as he took his length into his fist. He leaned his head back against the door and closed his eyes, stroking himself rough and fast, just the way he liked it. He thought back to his dream, to the soft skin pulled taught over Eddie’s shoulders and the way his ass swelled underneath his briefs. Part of him felt guilty for thinking of his best friend in the most compromising way, but then he thought back to the way Eddie looked at him, at his chest when the sheet fell off of him, at the way he blushed. Richie bit his bottom lip hard when he felt that familiar flip in the pit of his stomach and the buzzing at the base of his spine before he moaned, loud and guttural, cumming into his hand. Wave after wave of pleasure made him spread his legs to keep his knees from buckling beneath him. He panted as he opened his eyes, looking at the empty house in front of him, with one thought on his mind— _what the fuck do I do?_


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: explicit content, yo

            Eddie pulled into the driveway of his house, putting the car in park and resting his head against the steering wheel. He knew what was coming when he walked into the house, but if he was being honest with himself, he was more equipped to deal with his overbearing mother than he was with Richie at that moment. _What the hell just happened?_ Richie had always been the type to hang all over Eddie, whether to annoy him or just because he wanted the attention, but never that close—not since the night before he moved away. And what was it that Richie had said the night before?

            “ _I don’t regret it,_ ” Eddie repeated Richie’s words underneath his breath, a bittersweet smile creeping up on his lips. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to jump for joy or cry; while Richie didn’t regret what had happened, that didn’t mean that he had enjoyed it, and that was one of the things that bothered Eddie the most—the first thing being that Aaron knew exactly what Richie’s lips felt like. Aaron knew what Richie’s lips felt like, and if Eddie had seen correctly that night, what it felt like to be underneath Richie’s hands, too. It wasn’t as if Eddie blamed Aaron for what happened; Aaron had had no idea who Richie was at the time. Eddie didn’t necessarily even blame Richie anymore, either—it wasn’t like they were together, and he was allowed to do whatever he wanted with whomever he wanted to do it with. Eddie just wished that that someone wasn’t his ex-boyfriend, and one of his best friends.

            Eddie turned the car off and headed towards the front door, taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself for his mother’s bombardment. Heaving his bag over his shoulder, he headed inside, seeing Sonia Kaspbrak in her favorite armchair adjacent to the TV. She looked up at him and grimaced, eyeing him up and down. “Eddie, you look filthy. Have you even showered today? Have you brushed your teeth?”

            Eddie sighed, cursing inwardly. “No, mom; I woke up and you texted me that I had to come home, so I came home.”

            “Well, go take a shower,” She shuffled in her seat, looking out of breath from simply moving. “Have you taken your pills today? And who were you with last night, really? Because I called Bill’s mother to see if you were over there, and she said that she hadn’t seen you.”

            Eddie clenched his jaw in annoyance, tightening his hold on the strap of his bag. “I was with Richie.”

            “Tozier?” She raised her eyebrows at him, shaking her head. “Eddie, you know how I feel about that boy.”

            “Yeah, I do, but he’s my best friend. That’s not gonna stop,” Eddie made his way up the stairs without another word and to his bedroom, dropping his bag on his bed. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves before walking over to his dresser and pulling out a pair of clean briefs and a long-sleeved shirt, gathering them and walking across the hall to his bathroom.

            He got the hot water running before stripping down and putting his clothes in the hamper. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he hadn’t even had time to run a brush through his hair before leaving Richie’s house. Eddie still faintly tasted the beer on his tongue before getting into the shower and closing the glass door behind him, suddenly feeling dirty. He stood underneath the stream of hot water and felt it taking the tension out of his muscles, thinking back to everything that had happened to him within the last month alone. He had gotten his best friend back, someone that he wasn’t sure he was ever going to see again, someone he had spent most of his childhood with—but somehow, between the two of them, things had changed. Eddie thought that maybe they had changed a long time ago, when the idea of kissing Richie had first crossed his mind.  

            Grabbing the body wash, he lathered it between his hands and started at his chest, feeling the sweat and grime from the previous night and that morning washing off of him. He remembered how Richie had looked just an hour ago, when he had first woken up: his long, curly hair had been mussed from sleep, shaggy and brushing against his bare collarbones. When the sheet had dropped off of him, Eddie had distinctly noticed that there was now a thin trail of dark hair making its way from his belly button down to his navel, going all the way underneath the lining of his jeans. Richie had looked good, really good, for just waking up. He’d never been bad looking to Eddie; his long, dark eyelashes brushed against the freckles on the top of his cheeks every time he blinked, and as Eddie had noticed that morning, when he slept. Richie had matured—the baby-faced, glasses-toting trash-mouth was still there underneath it all, but he had grown into his body and face. Eddie found himself wanting to feel the sharp edge of Richie’s jaw.

            Eddie remembered how undeniably _warm_ Richie had felt throughout the night; every place where Richie’s bare skin had touched Eddie felt like it was burning through the layers of Eddie’s clothing. He thought back to not even an hour before when Richie had bent down and kissed Eddie on the cheek, Richie’s large hand wrapped around his waist and his breath on Eddie’s face. Normally Eddie would have complained about the cigarettes and beer on his breath, but there was something underneath all of it that was naturally _Richie_ that made Eddie want more of it. Eddie’s hand trailed down his chest and stomach towards the hip that Richie had his hand on, feeling his nerves light up at the sense-memory. He feathered his fingers over the sharp jut of his hipbone, lightly scraping his blunt nails across the bone and sighing quietly.

            Eddie’s breath hitched in his throat when he slowly snaked his hand in-between his legs, chewing on his bottom lip and wrapping a hand around his length. He rested his head against the tile wall, feeling the warm water beat against his back and shoulders as he gently squeezed his cock before stroking it languidly. Richie’s face from that morning came to mind as he’d looked Eddie up and down playfully while biting his lip, the suggestive expression engraved in Eddie’s mind. Subconsciously Eddie knew that Richie had probably been fooling around, trying to get a rise out of him, but there was something underneath all of that—a passing look that Richie had given him when he was buttoning his jeans. Eddie stroked himself faster, rougher, as he thought back to the skin-tight black jeans hugging Richie’s long legs and hanging low on his hips, just low enough to spark Eddie’s imagination.

            Eddie remembered staring at the sharp line of Richie’s collarbones, imagining the pale skin there bruised purple and red from his very own handiwork, and that was all it took; his left hand flew up to cover his mouth as he came, panting and whimpering into his palm. He let his head remain resting against the wall until his breathing evened out and he could stand up right again, washing himself off underneath the water stream. The euphoric buzzing in his veins lasted all of a minute or two before guilt crept into his gut and he felt sick, dirty; he lathered himself in body wash twice more, scrubbing, before he finally got to his hair, trying to ignore the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

 

            Eddie laid on his stomach on his bed, scrolling through his Instagram feed as he waited on Alicia to arrive at his house. He had been close to her and her brother, Aaron, for years; they were the only people outside of his childhood best friends that he trusted with his life. Where Aaron had more of a calming, quiet demeanor, Alicia was brash; she wasn’t afraid to let people know what she thought, sometimes crossing quite a few lines. Eddie loved both her and her brother equally, but out of the two of them, he came to Alicia more for the kind of issues he was having. She would never sugarcoat things for him, and she didn’t have a problem telling him when he needed to “suck it up” and make a move—actually, now that Eddie thought about it, she reminded him of _Richie_.

            “I knew you were gay, but I didn’t know you were _that_ gay,” Eddie turned around and looked over his shoulder to see Alicia walking into his room, smirking. Her vibrant blue hair was pulled into a fishtail braid flowing over her shoulder, covering part of the _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ t-shirt that she was wearing. She climbed onto his bed and sprawled out over his back, making him wheeze. “I mean, Instagram, really?”

            “Ryan Reynolds’ feed is pure gold, okay?” Eddie grinned, curling in on himself and nuzzling into her side. She reached around and ran her fingers through his hair, chuckling.

            “I think your mom about had an aneurysm when she saw my shirt,” Eddie could hear the smugness in her voice as he bit back laughter. “What do you think it was—the men in fishnets or Tim Curry’s eyeliner?”

            “Maybe it was Rocky’s bowl-cut,” Eddie snorted, faintly smelling Alicia’s peach perfume. “It doesn’t matter what kind of body you have, that just isn’t okay.”

            They both started laughing as she rested her head on his side, still threading her fingers through his damp hair. “I’ve missed you, Kaspbrak.”

            Eddie sighed and swallowed hard, sighing. “I know. I’ve missed you, too. It’s just been a crazy month.”

            “Tell me about it,” She lifted herself off of him and laid next to him on the bed, turning her face to him. Eddie found himself feeling automatically comforted by the green in her eyes, the birthmark on her right cheek like going back to your favorite home away from home.

            So he told her; he told her everything that had happened between him and Richie, from Richie camping out on the roof of his car to the kiss on his cheek that same morning. She listened intently, her prized poker-face showing no hints as to how she would react. After he finished talking about ten minutes later, he watched her for a few moments before she smacked him, hard, on the thigh.

            “ _Ow._ What the hell, Alicia?” He gaped at her, rubbing the sore spot on his leg.

            “He’s into you, you dipshit,” She chuckled, shaking her head. “What he said last night, when he kissed you this morning—you don’t just do that to someone you consider family, Eddie.”

            “Yeah, well, if he’s so into me, why did he make out with Aaron?” Eddie frowned bitterly, the memory feeling like a bad taste in his mouth.

            “Because he was drunk, and I couldn’t tell you why, but people find Aaron attractive,” She huffed out a breath of laughter, nudging him with her elbow, “You remember well enough.”

            “Yeah, and after the first week, it felt like sleeping with my own brother,” Eddie shuddered, shaking his head. “But he must’ve known how close Aaron and I were, I still don’t understand.”

            She grabbed his chin in her hand and forced him to look at her, looking him in the eyes. “I’m not saying it’s right, but he probably doesn’t have the slightest clue that you’re into him, Ed. If everything you’ve told me about him is true, he’s impulsive as shit. If he knew you felt that way about him, Richie never would’ve done it. Have you seen him with anyone else since he’s been here?”

            Eddie shook his head to the best of his abilities with her hand still on his chin.

            “There’s a reason for that,” Alicia raised an eyebrow at him, amused. “Trust me; I’ve seen the way people look at him in school. He’s not necessarily bad-looking, and he’s not stupid. He knows he could have someone if he wanted them, Eddie. But he doesn’t want them.”

            Eddie looked down and chewed on his bottom lip nervously, mulling her words over. He’d always trusted Alicia’s judgment; she knew people, she understood them. She might not have known Richie as much as Eddie did, but she had an outsider’s perspective and he was too close to the situation. He and Richie had over a decade’s worth of history together; she knew them as individual people, “Really?”

            “Yes, really,” She let go of his face, looking at him fondly, “You idiot. You need to talk to him.”

            Eddie felt anticipation and anxiety swirling around in his stomach, making him feel nauseous. He felt his chest begin constricting, reaching over towards the nightstand beside his bed and grabbing his inhaler. Shoving the end between his lips, he pushed the pump twice and inhaled, feeling his air passage open up again. He set it back down again and nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “I’ll talk to him, tonight.”

            Alicia nodded, a sense of pride resting on her face. “Good, I’m proud of you. Now tell me about that Mike guy you always hang around.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even tell you how NSFW this is.  
> Richie's playlist:  
> Tired of You - Foo Fighters  
> I'll Surely Die - The Rubens  
> Lovesong - The Cure  
> Wolf Like Me - TV On The Radio  
> Stripped - Shiny Toy Guns  
> Crazy - Aerosmith  
> I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing - Aerosmith  
> Scar Tissue - Red Hot Chili Peppers  
> Mary Jane's Last Dance - Tom Petty   
> (Not in this specific order.)

            Richie liked being home alone, for the most part; it meant that he didn’t have to deal with his mother, and he got the living room to himself. But while he liked being alone sometimes, he didn’t like being _lonely._ After what had happened the previous night and that morning he called Beverly over, waiting and lying back on the couch, smoking a cigarette. He’d hooked his CD player up to the stereo in the living room, putting in a mix CD that contained everything from Foo Fighters to Red Hot Chili Peppers, willing the music to calm his nerves.

            In the middle of Mary Jane’s Last Dance, he looked up after hearing the front door open and shut, seeing Beverly walking over to him. She raised an eyebrow at the prehistoric CD player as he sat up, shaking her head and chuckling. “You know they have better technology now, right? Like they have these things called iPods, they’re great.”

            “If that player hasn’t failed me yet, I don’t have a reason to upgrade, now do I?” He smirked, laying his head in her lap after she sat down. He took a drag off of his cigarette before passing it to her, watching her smoke.

            She passed it back to him and carded her fingers through his long hair, working some of the tangles out. “What happened?”

            “How does one react after they jerk it to their best friend?” He felt her still her fingers at that for a few seconds before continuing again.

            “I mean Richie, I’m flattered, but,” He looked up at her to see a smirk on her face before he snorted in amusement, shaking his head.

            “I couldn’t help myself, Bev, that carrot top of yours really got me going,” He chuckled after she smacked him half-heartedly on the stomach, muttering something about him ‘being an asshole’. He sighed after a few moments of silence, sitting up and stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray.

            “Did that jerk session have feelings behind it?” She turned on the sofa to look at him, crossing her legs, “Maybe for a certain little asthmatic?”

            “Why do I feel like you knew about that before this conversation?” Richie raised an eyebrow at her as she began grinning and scooting closer.

            “Dude, I love you but you’re not that subtle,” She took the Marlboros off of the coffee table and put one between her lips, pulling the lighter out with it. “I’ve known you were head over heels for him for years; even when we were little, you threw a fit if you didn’t have his attention.”

            She lit the cigarette and bit back laughter as he gaped at her. “I’ve just been waiting for you to realize it.”

            He threw his hands up and fell back against the sofa, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “Yeah, well, that happened and now I don’t know what the fuck to do,” He grimaced, shuttering, “Help me, I’m _feeling_.”

            She patted him on the leg, falling back beside him and nodding. “I’m right there with you.”

            He covered his chest with his hand, feigning surprise, “ _You_ , Mrs. Grinch?”

            She sighed dramatically, acting faint. “Yes, even I, Beverly Marsh, have feelings.”

            “Those are dumb,” Richie smiled softly at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer, the smoke from her half-smoked cigarette wafting into his face. “Bill?”

            After a few seconds, she shook her head and he looked at her in confusion. “That ship sailed a long time ago, Rich. I love him, yeah, but you’ve been gone awhile; he’s just as dense as you are.”

            He mulled her words over for a minute before everything clicked; he looked at her, his eyes widening. “Uris? How the fuck did I not notice that?”

            She snorted, grinning up at him. “Because you’ve been so far up Eddie’s ass you can’t see straight.”

            “God, I wish,” He sighed and she threw her head back in laughter, and soon enough, he was joining her.

            “Talk to him, Richie,” She rubbed his hand softly. “You’re good at that.”

            “It really is a gift,” He huffed out a breath of laughter and began another sentence before being interrupted by his phone chirping in his pocket. He shuffled to pull it out, seeing a text message from Eddie.

            **Eds:** _can I come back over? I need to talk to you_

            Richie swallowed hard as Beverly leaned over and read the text message, looking back up at him and waggling her eyebrows playfully. “Looks like he had the same idea we did.”

 

            Richie texted Eddie back telling him that he could come back over, convincing Beverly to stay until Eddie arrived. Half an hour passed before the two of them heard the familiar hum of Eddie’s car pulling up into the driveway, sparking Richie’s anxiety.

            “You’re sure it isn’t too soon to tell him this shit, Bev?” Richie asked, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. “I’ve been back, what—a month and a half?”

            “Richie, you’ve known him since grade school,” Beverly shoved his hair out of his eyes and pushed it behind his ear, raising an eyebrow at him. “I promise you’re good.”

            A knock on the front door drew their attention away and Beverly pulled away from him, standing up. Richie followed suit, standing up and jerking forward in surprise when Beverly smacked his behind.

            He looked backwards to see her smirking, giving him a thumbs-up and whispering. “Go get your man.”

            Richie took a deep, steadying breath before he opened the door, seeing Eddie standing on the front porch. He saw that Eddie had showered and changed clothes, his hair perfectly coiffed like he usually had it. Eddie shifted from foot to foot nervously, offering him a half-hearted smile. Richie moved to let him in and Eddie moved past him to see Beverly standing there, grinning.

            He grinned back at the redhead and walked towards her, pulling her into a hug, “Hey, Bev.”

            “Hey, Eddie,” She patted him on the back fondly before pulling away and looking between the two of them, smirking. She pulled Richie into her arms, rubbing his back soothingly before shoving her phone in her hoodie pocket and moving towards the door, opening it. “I guess I’ll let you two get to it.”

            Richie silently cursed Beverly for her wording as she closed the door behind her, leaving him and Eddie in the living room alone. He turned back towards Eddie to see him sitting on the couch, a confused expression on his face. “What did she mean?”

            “Nothing, ignore her,” Richie shook his head and walked over, taking a seat beside the brunet. “What did you wanna talk to me about?”

            Richie watched Eddie look down and take a deep, shaky breath before looking back up. “Did you mean what you said last night?”

            Richie raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. “I said a lot last night, which part?”

            Eddie frowned, looking down and fidgeting with his pullover string. “When you said you didn’t regret the kiss, did you mean it?”

            Richie felt his heart begin beating faster, hearing the constant thumping in his ears, “Of course, Eds.”

            Eddie nodded slowly, still looking down at the string, “Okay, good.”

            Richie swallowed hard, looking at the nervous boy in front of him. “Why—“

            Before he could finish his sentence, Eddie was pushing him against the back of the couch and straddling Richie’s legs, sitting in his lap and looking down at him with intensity. Richie felt his throat suddenly go dry and he forgot how to breathe, looking at his beautiful, doe-eyed best friend. “W-What are you doing, Eddie?”

            “For once in your fucking life, Richie, _shut up_ ,” Eddie breathed out before placing his lips over Richie’s own, his hands finding Richie’s shoulders and gripping tightly. Richie was stunned, stuck in place for quite a few seconds before he snaked his hands up Eddie’s thighs and rested them on his bony hips. Eddie sighed into the kiss, feeling Richie finally move his lips. Finding a sudden surge of confidence, Richie gripped Eddie’s hips tightly and pulled him closer, sliding his tongue into Eddie’s mouth.

            “ _Fuck_ ,” Eddie breathed against Richie’s lips, flicking his tongue gingerly against Richie’s. Richie’s breathing became more frantic as he slid his hands up Eddie’s sides and to his neck, resting his fingers against Eddie’s jawline. They were pressed together with every limb; Eddie’s chest was flush against the boy’s underneath him, his thighs claiming Richie in a trap that he never wished to find his way out of. Years of separation and heartache were poured into the kiss, and Eddie was piecing Richie back together with every lip movement. Distantly, Richie noticed the music still playing in the room with them, grinning against Eddie’s lips.

            “Whenever I’m alone with you,” Richie sang quietly as he trailed kisses down Eddie’s jaw and throat, biting softly. “You make me feel like I am home again.”

            “Whenever I’m alone with you,” Richie noticed Eddie’s breathing quicken when he sucked on the space where his neck met his shoulder; Eddie balled the fabric of Richie’s worn out t-shirt in his fists. “ _You make me feel like I am whole again_.”

            “Do you mean that?” Eddie’s voice was barely a whisper above Richie as Richie looked up, seeing that Eddie looked like he was nearly in tears.

            Richie gently grasped Eddie’s chin in his hand, pulling his face down to look him in the eye and accentuating every word with a chaste kiss, “Every single word.”

            Eddie beamed, grinning widely and kissing Richie hard. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Richie acknowledged the fact that he never wanted to see that grin leave Eddie’s face, and he’d do everything in his power to make sure that it stayed that way. Placing his hands beneath Eddie’s thighs, he flipped them over to where Eddie was laying back on the couch and he was between Eddie’s spread legs. Eddie gasped in surprise, clasping his thighs around Richie’s midsection. Richie pressed their bodies together, grinding down and making Eddie whimper; Richie almost growled at the sound, his cock twitching in the restraint of his jeans.

            “ _Please_ ,” Eddie begged, high-pitched and breathy. He clawed at Richie’s shoulder, sending chills down the taller boy’s spine.

            “What do you need, baby?” Richie asked but he was already sliding his hands beneath Eddie’s pullover and shirt, looking up at his best friend for permission to take them off.

            In response Eddie sat up, pulling the articles of clothing off by himself and laying back down. Richie bit his bottom lip at the sight before him, taking in the olive-tone expanse of skin that was now his for the taking. Crawling further down Eddie’s body, he began peppering light kisses down his neck and chest, biting lightly ever so often. He flicked his tongue against a hard nipple, hearing Eddie gasp above him. Richie took the pink bud into his mouth, suckling and running his tongue over the tip before gingerly scraping his teeth over it.

            “ _God_ ,” Eddie whimpered, clawing at the back of Richie’s t-shirt in a weak attempt to pull it off. Richie quickly sat up and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the floor beneath them and focusing his attention back on the boy sprawled out on the couch. He climbed back in-between Eddie’s legs and found the spot that had made Eddie squirm earlier, nipping at the space where his shoulder met his neck before biting down and sucking. Eddie clung to Richie, digging his nails into Richie’s back and shoulders before clawing, the pain making him light-headed and _needy_. Richie pulled back slightly to admire the forming bruise on Eddie’s skin, feeling a sense of pride at the fact that he had marked him, taken Eddie for his own. Richie began kissing down Eddie’s chest and the flat plain of his stomach before reaching the lining of his jeans, looking up at Eddie in a silent question.

            Eddie nodded once, and that was all the confirmation that Richie needed; he made quick work of Eddie’s jeans before pulling them off and tossing them into the same spot their other clothing had gone. Richie bent down and bit at the lining of Eddie’s boxers, pulling them down as much as he could with his teeth and admiring his hipbones before he saw faint scratch marks on one side, looking up at Eddie questioningly.

            Eddie’s entire face turned red, reaching even down to his neck. He looked away from Richie and bit his lip nervously. “I—uh…earlier…”

            It took a few seconds to sink in to Richie’s lust-filled mind before he grinned, raising an eyebrow at Eddie. “You did it because of me, didn’t you?”

            Eddie swatted at Richie’s shoulder, his face still dark with embarrassment. “Fuck off; it’d been awhile anyway, okay?”

            Richie chuckled and bit his lip before looking back down at the scratches. “Don’t worry, I did, too.”

            Eddie’s eyes grew wide but before he could ask, Richie traced the scratch marks with the tip of his tongue, huffing out a breath of laughter as he felt Eddie grip onto his shoulder once more. Richie gently bit the jut of the hipbone before sucking a mark on there, too, darker and larger than the one on Eddie’s shoulder. By the time Richie was done with the mark, Eddie was panting, his eyes closed and his bottom lip sucked in between his teeth. Richie hooked his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s briefs before sliding them down slowly, admiring the light valley of hair thickening the further he went down. He glanced up at Eddie, looking him in the eye as he took Eddie’s length into his hand and licked a stripe up the bottom of it, committing the noises his best friend made to memory.

            Richie suckled on the head of Eddie’s cock, licking through the slit gently before he took the length into his mouth, forcing his throat to open. Eddie whimpered loudly before covering his mouth with his hand, muffling the noises that Richie was craving.

            Richie pulled off of Eddie and took Eddie’s hand away from his mouth, shaking his head. “I wanna hear you. We’re alone here, baby; you don’t have to worry.”

            Eddie swallowed hard and nodded as Richie made his way back down, taking Eddie back into his mouth. Richie held Eddie’s hips down with firm hands to keep him from thrusting up into the heat, making Eddie groan even more. Richie watched Eddie’s face contort from pleasure as he sucked him off, slowing down every once in a while to lick from the base to the head excruciatingly slowly; Richie noticed that that was when Eddie was his loudest—high-pitched and falling apart as he whimpered, clawing at Richie’s shoulders and begging for him to suck him again. Richie thought that Eddie was close enough to where if he didn’t hurry, Eddie might cry out of need; Richie also acknowledged the fact that he might cum in his jeans if Eddie did so.

            Eddie’s breathing quickened and he arched his back off of the couch, snaking a hand into Richie’s hair and pulling _hard_. Richie growled low in the back of his throat, rutting against the couch from need of friction as he fastened his pace and listened to Eddie’s moans get louder and longer before he finally came apart. Eddie keened as he came, both of his hands fisted into Richie’s hair. Richie swallowed around Eddie’s cock and continued sucking him through his climax, only pulling off when Eddie tapped out from overstimulation. Richie climbed up and kissed Eddie languidly, feeling Eddie’s panting turn into slow breathing as he came down from his high.

            “Are you okay?” Richie asked after a few minutes of silence in the room, the only noises being the wet of their lips as they kissed.

            Eddie responded by pushing Richie back on the couch and straddling him once more, looking at him with an expression of mischief. “Yeah, but you aren’t.”

            Richie took in the aftermath of Eddie’s orgasm, his hair mussed up and sticking to his forehead from sweat. He had multiple hickeys from his shoulders and chest down to his naked hipbones, and Richie was still painfully _hard_. Eddie’s red, swollen lips didn’t help matters as the shorter boy bit his lip and looked down at Richie before trailing a small hand down his chest and to his navel, unbuttoning his jeans. Eddie slid his hand into Richie’s pants and pulled his length through the slit in his briefs, making Richie light-headed from the gentle touches. Richie rested his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes as Eddie ran his thumb through his slit and began stroking him roughly; Richie’s eyes flew open as he felt a wet heat envelop his collarbone and looked down to see Eddie sucking a bruise onto his pale flesh, marking him as Eddie’s, as well.

            “Cum for me,” Eddie whispered into Richie’s ear, licking a stripe up his jawline, “ _Please_.”

            Eddie accentuated the last word by moaning it into Richie’s ear, and Richie knew that he was done for; he moaned, low and guttural and came into Eddie’s hand, holding Eddie’s hip in a bruising hold. Eddie stroked him until he was completely finished, panting and looking at his best friend in an entirely different light. He grinned lopsidedly and rested his head against Eddie’s chest, feeling Eddie play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

            “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Eddie muttered against Richie’s shoulder.

            Richie snorted and rested his head against the back of the couch, laughing. “I mean, you could’ve a lot sooner.”

            Eddie slapped Richie’s arm and stood up, pulling his boxers back on. “You could’ve, too!”

            Richie smiled softly at Eddie and felt his chest tighten in fondness, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s midsection and pulling him closer. “Yeah, well, I’ll start it next time.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it was short, but more coming soon!

            Eddie sat upright on the far end of Richie’s old couch, paying little attention to _It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia_ playing on the TV in front of them. As Charlie screamed about something that Dennis had done, his attention was directed to Richie lying flat out on his stomach on the sofa, his head in Eddie’s lap. Richie’s breathing had evened out a few minutes before, and Eddie had assumed he’d fallen asleep; Eddie’s eyes trailed down the deep red scratch marks littering Richie’s shoulders and back, and he felt a cocktail of slight arousal and emotionality bubble up in his gut. It had only been a little over an hour since their session, and Eddie was conflicted; on one hand, Richie had _sang_ to him (Richie’s voice was actually decent, but Eddie was never going to hear the end of it if he told him so) and had told Eddie that he meant every word. On the other, he’d always known that deep down Richie cared about him—but that didn’t mean that he wanted something permanent.

            Slowly, Eddie ghosted his fingers over the fierce red lines down Richie’s broad back. He felt a sense of pride swell in his chest as he found that they still had actual heat to them, swollen—he’d damn near drew blood. Eddie thought back to the hickeys peppering Richie’s chest, as well, and thought that even if Richie didn’t want everything that he did, he’d still have _this_ , and he wasn’t going to waste it. Eddie feathered his finger down Richie’s spine, stilling his hand when Richie sighed and arched his back into it.

            “Enjoying your handiwork?” Richie chuckled, his voice muffled from Eddie’s leg.

            “While I can,” The words tumbled out of Eddie’s mouth before he could stop them, and he mentally berated himself as Richie sat up, looking at him with a confused expression.

            “What’s that supposed to mean?” Richie raised his eyebrow, a mixture of astonishment and wariness lacing his words.

            Eddie shrugged, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. “I just don’t know where you expect to go from here.”

            Richie frowned, staying silent long enough to make Eddie’s stomach twist in anxiety. Before Eddie could try to explain himself, Richie was placing a leg on either side of Eddie’s lap, straddling him. The taller boy took Eddie’s face in his hands in a strong hold, looking directly into his eyes. “Did you think this was just some way for me to get off--that I’d actually use _you_ , one of my best friends since fucking elementary, as a piece of ass? You’ve gotta know me better than that by now, Eds.”

            “I don’t know if I do, anymore,” Eddie swallowed hard, his chest constricting and making it difficult to breathe. But it wasn’t an asthma attack this time—it was absolute _fear_ at getting his heart shattered. After everything that had happened between the two of them recently, Eddie wasn’t sure that he could go back to being casual with Richie; it would rip the ground out from underneath him. “It’s been a long time, Rich.”

            Richie’s jaw tightened and Eddie watched as Richie’s expression turned from hurtful to irritation. Richie took Eddie’s right hand into both of his, looking down at his fingers and then back up to Eddie’s face. “It might’ve been a long time, Eds, and I might’ve grown up a little—“

            Eddie snorted involuntarily, but Richie ignored it and continued. “—but this,” Richie gestured between the two of them with one of his hands, still holding Eddie’s in the other, “This hasn’t changed a bit. I still get on your nerves and tell you when you have a stick up your ass, and you tell me when I’m being a dick. That’s the way we’ve always worked, babe, and it isn’t changing anytime soon.”

            Eddie’s mouth went dry when Richie took Eddie’s index finger, placing it over Richie’s lips. “This is yours.”

            Richie moved Eddie’s hand down to Richie’s naked chest, placing it flat on the left side. “This is yours.”

            Eddie’s breath caught in his throat when the ghost of a smirk appeared on Richie’s face. The curly-headed boy slowly moved Eddie’s hand over his cock through Richie’s jeans, looking back up to the asthmatic. “This…is yours. If you have to mark my neck up every fucking day to let everyone else know it, so be it. You’re stuck with me, Eds.”

            Eddie bit down on his bottom lip, speechless for over a minute before taking a deep breath and nodding. “You mean it?”

            Richie grinned, chuckling and placing his hands on either side of Eddie’s neck, “Even when you don’t wanna be.”

            A wide grin slowly spread across Eddie’s face before he took Richie by surprise, flipping them over to where Richie was on his back with Eddie between his legs. “I think I can deal with that.”

            Richie bit his lip, still grinning and eyeing Eddie up and down. “I’m gonna remember you said that.”

 

***

 

            Bill sat at the wooden desk in his bedroom, aligning all of his art utensils alongside his sketchpad. His art club mentor had assigned everyone in the class to do a detailed portrait of someone close to them—someone close enough to where they could notice every detail, little things that most people would miss: natural highlights in their hair, light freckles on their forehead or nose, the smallest of birthmarks. The assignment was about emotionality—being able to capture that kind of loyalty or love inside of a drawing. Of course, Bill didn’t tell his subject that; as far as Stanley Uris knew, Bill just needed a model for some project and everyone else was busy. Bill hoped that it stayed that way.

            A knock on his bedroom door took Bill away from his thoughts, walking over and opening it to see Stan standing there with a small smile. “Hey, dude.”

            Bill moved to let him in, watching the Jewish boy snake past him and make his way into the room. Stan had a little more weight on him now, some of the color returning to his face. Bill thanked whatever God that was listening for that; if anything ever happened to Stan, it would be the end of him—wherever Stan went, Bill went, and acknowledging that fact terrified Bill to no end, “H-hey, th-thanks for do-doing this.”

            Stan shrugged humbly, taking a seat on Bill’s bed. Stan was wearing a pair of tan skinny jeans and a long-sleeved, button-up light blue shirt with a pair of Vans to match—the cleanest Bill had ever seen on any teenager their age, but he wasn’t surprised in the least. His face was fuller, his edges not as sharp, and he looked _stunning_ to Bill. He always did, but nowadays he was looking better, healthier, and Bill wanted to cry out of happiness. “I’m just curious as to why you chose me.”

            Bill watched as Stan glanced down towards his hands, fidgeting with his nailbeds before looking back up at Bill with a half-hearted smile. That’s when it hit Bill square in the chest—he’d never stopped to think about whether or not Stan would be self-conscious. He cursed himself and felt his heart break a little. “Y-You do-don’t have to i-if you don’t wa-want to.”

            Stan waved it off and took his shoes off, placing them neatly beside the bed and scooting up further towards the wall. “Just tell me how you want me, Picasso.”

            Stan’s wording made Bill’s face heat up but he ignored it, turning around in his chair with his sketchpad on his lap, “He-here, le-lean up ag-against th-the wall.”

            Stan did as he was told, sitting up straight with his back against the wall. Bill noticed the bounce of his hair every time Stan moved, the way it was shuffling slightly above his collarbone, the way the sunlight from the window hit it—he made mental notes to capture all of this. “Ti-tilt your ch-chin up a lit-little; rest y-your he-head ag-against the wa-wall.”

            Stan followed Bill’s instruction without argue, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at his ankles. Soon enough, it was quiet in the room besides the sound of charcoal pencil against toothed paper. Stan teetered back and forth between looking out of the window and watching Bill draw, his bottom lip captured between his teeth and brow furrowed in concentration. To anyone else in their group, the dragging silence would have been awkward and heavy, but Bill had always been different; he quite enjoyed the silence, and knew that Stan had always been the same way. Bill must have erased and redrawn the curl of the hair framing Stan’s face thirty times, making sure that it looked as close to the real life thing as possible. If Stan didn’t see himself as beautiful, maybe, just maybe, Bill could make him see himself through Bill’s eyes.

            The entire thing took longer than Bill or Stan thought that it would. For Bill, it was a process of making sure that Stan’s jawline was sharp enough, that the light hitting his hair was drawn correctly, that the bridge of his nose and the bow of his lips were as breath-taking on paper as they were in real life. He’d managed to capture Stan staring out the window at one of the birds that had perched itself on a branch of the tree sitting directly in Stan’s view, where Bill had always thought Stan had looked his calmest. When Stan was calm and content, he’d let his guard down. Bill just felt lucky enough to be one of the few people that had ever seen that happen.

            “Fi-finished,” Bill sighed, setting the pencil down and flexing his fingers. Stan scooted forward and stretched out his limbs, taking a deep breath. They’d both been sitting there for hours, with Bill intensely concentrated and Stan not being able to move a muscle. He could imagine how Stan felt.

            “Can I see?” Stan asked, now sitting on the edge of the bed, directly in front of Bill.

            Bill took one last look at his drawing and swallowed hard, nodding. He handed the sketchpad over to Stan with hesitation and watched Stan’s expression carefully, tension lacing every muscle in his body. Stan’s eyes softened as he looked the paper over, his expression somewhere between astonishment and disbelief.

            “I don’t…I don’t look like that,” Stan’s voice was quiet as he slowly shook his head, gently tracing the line of the paper with his index finger.

            “Y-You do,” Bill breathed out, moving to sit next to him on the bed. “Th-That’s how you a-always lo-look to m-me.”

            Bill bit his lip in irritation, knowing that his stutter got worse the more nervous he was. He’d admitted it out loud, and he couldn’t take it back. But from judging the look on Stan’s face, Bill wasn’t sure that he wanted to.

            Stan turned and looked at Bill with what looked like tears forming in the corners of his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I don’t know how that’s what you see, Bill. I don’t know how you get _that_ ,” Stan gestured to the paper, and then to himself, “from _this_.”

            “Be-be-because,” Bill screwed his eyes shut in irritation and embarrassment, taking a deep breath before he began speaking again. “Th-that i-i- _is_ y-you; y-you’re al-always that st-stunning. Wh-What you s-see is-isn’t wh-what I s-see, a-and I’m th-the a-artist, he-here. I g-got an e-eye fo-for this sh-shit.”

            He nudged Stan with his elbow playfully, smiling softly at him. Stan huffed out a breath of laughter, sniffling, before he looked back down at the paper. “This is beautiful, Bill.”          

            “W-Well, s-so is th-the model,” Bill looked down at his hands nervously, faintly acknowledging the residue from the charcoal on the sides. His eyes widened as Stan gently placed his fingers on Bill’s chin, lifting his head that way they were eye-to-eye. Bill swallowed hard as Stan slowly moved in, partially parting his lips and glancing down towards Bill’s own. Bill let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding as he covered Stan’s lips with his own, snaking his hand around Stan’s hip with a feather-light touch. Stan took the hand not holding Bill’s chin and placed it on Bill’s neck, rubbing his thumb across Bill’s jawline soothingly.

            Bill grinned, his lips still against Stan’s, and chuckled lightly when he felt Stan do the same. Stan pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against Bill’s and wrapping his arms around Bill’s neck. Bill took Stan into his arms and hugged him closer, tightly, tucking his face into the crook of Stan’s neck.

            Stan sighed in contentment, smiling softly against Bill’s shoulder, “Thank you.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while, I'm sorry!  
> I've had a lot going on and I've been extremely busy. This chapter isn't much, but I promise, better ones coming soon!

            That night Richie convinced Eddie to stay over on the agreement that Eddie could go home and pick up some clothes, his toothbrush, and whatever else that he needed. Eddie had kissed him goodbye ( _“I promise I’ll only be gone twenty minutes; you’re not gonna die without me,”_ Eddie had chastised him). The kiss was short but sweet, and filled with emotion. Richie knew that Eddie’s mother had it out for him, but after everything that had happened the past two days, he couldn’t get himself to care. Eddie _liked_ him; Eddie had kissed him, had trusted him. Richie just wished that Eddie didn’t have hell to pay every time that he left the house, especially on Richie’s behalf. After Eddie pulled out of the driveway, Richie sat on his musky couch and pulled out his phone, seeing multiple texts from Beverly.

            **Bev:** _what’s happening_

**Bev:** _it’s been hours Richie, I need details_

**Bev:** _you guys are fucking aren’t you_

**Bev:** _man you better call me later I swear_

**Bev:** _you may have a boyfriend now, but you’re still my bitch_

Richie snorted out loud, a large grin forming on his lips. He pressed her contact and began calling her, cackling when she answered on the second ring.

            “Richie fucking Tozier,” He bit back laughter when she scolded him, lying back on the couch. “I’m gonna hit you; what’s been happening?”

            “I’m not sure Eddie would appreciate giving you all the details, but,” He reached over to the coffee table and grabbed his Marlboros, pulling one out and placing it between his lips. He’d been dying for one for hours but didn’t want to set Eddie off, especially in such close vicinity. “It’s called bartering, right, an exchange of goods and services?”

            She snorted out laughter on the other end of the line and he chuckled, grinning around the cigarette in his mouth. “I’m proud of you. Does this mean you’re officially off the market?”

            He feigned regret and sighed. “Yes, my darling, I’m sorry; I’m a taken man now, these little trysts have to come to an end.”

            She squealed and he held the phone away from his ear for a few seconds before pulling it back. “Thank God, fucking finally. Bill owes me twenty bucks now.”

            He raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Wait, what?”

            “He bet me like a month ago on how long it’d take for you two to pull your heads out of your asses and get together,” He gaped as she continued, “And I won.”

            “Bev, what the fuck?” Richie threw his hands up, sitting up on the couch. “How many people know about this?”

            “Richie, it isn’t like I had to tell them,” She was using her placating tone, like he was a child she was trying to teach how to read, “Like I said before: _you’re not that subtle._ ”

            “Well, shit,” He took a drag off of his cigarette, flicking the ash into the ashtray. “How many people were in on this?”

            “I bet it’d happen within the first two months,” She explained. He heard shuffling and a door slamming in the background, assuming she was moving from the living room into her bedroom. “Bill thought it wouldn’t happen for at least six months, Ben thought one of us would have to intervene, and Stan said he didn’t want any part of it.”

            Richie huffed out a breath of laughter. “Yeah, that sounds about right. I feel like I should get something out of this bet, this is all kinds of fucked up.”

            “You got Eddie, didn’t you?” He could hear the grin in her voice, and he mirrored it.

            “Yeah,” He nodded to himself. “Yeah, I did.”

            “I’m happy for you, Rich,” She sighed, and Richie’s chest ached for her. “Now go hang out with your boyfriend. I love you, and tell him I love him, too.”

            “I love you too, Bev,” He meant it as he hung up, stubbing his cigarette out and lying on his back. She’d helped him through everything he had gone through with Eddie, and as he heard Eddie’s car pull back up, he thought that it was his turn to help her, too.

 

            After alternating between lazily kissing on the couch and watching TV together, they crawled into Richie’s bed that night, shifting closer to one another. Eddie had forced Richie to brush his teeth and hair before bed that night ( _“Make sure to floss, too; you don’t know how much bacteria hides in between your teeth after eating, dude,”_ Eddie shuttered at the thought), and stood watch at the bathroom door, glaring at Richie when he smiled sarcastically afterwards. Lying in the glow emanating from the moon shining through Richie’s window, Richie wrapped his arm around Eddie, kissing the top of his head.

            “Did your mom give you much hell when you told her you were leaving again?” Richie asked, smirking to himself.

            Eddie’s head was lying on Richie’s chest as he spoke, his words muffled by the bare flesh. “Hell yeah she did, but I just told her that if she didn’t let me go, I’d move out the day that I turned eighteen.”

            “Don’t you want to, anyway?” Richie raised an eyebrow at the brunet above him.

            “Yeah, but she doesn’t know that,” Eddie shrugged to the best of his abilities in his position and Richie snorted, shaking his head.

            The room was silent for a few minutes save for their breathing. Richie swallowed hard before he spoke again. “Eds?”

            “Call me that one more time, and I swear,” Eddie grumbled into Richie’s chest.

            “Thank you,” Richie bit down on his lip to keep it from trembling, cursing himself mentally for the amount of emotion he’d put into those words.

            Eddie shuffled and sat up on one elbow, looking over at Richie with concern, “For what?”

            Richie shrugged and took a deep breath, moving and mirroring Eddie’s position. He stayed quiet for a moment to calm himself down, praying that his voice didn’t give. “I fucked you over pretty badly, more than once, and I’m just glad that you forgave me. I’m thanking you for not hating me.”

            Eddie’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as he searched for the words to respond with. “I could never hate you, Richie. I was pissed off for a long time, but I could never hate you.”          

            “I thought you did, for a long time,” Richie admitted, his voice cracking and betraying him. “I tried to get ahold of you for years, and you always ignored me. I just didn’t think that this is where we’d end up.”   

            Eddie scooted impossibly close, every inch of their bodies pressed together as he climbed on top of Richie, pushing him back into the bed. He framed Richie’s face with his hands and looked into his eyes, his expression stony. “I’m here, now. I was mad, yeah, but I could’ve handled it better. I could’ve talked to you about it. I was just heartbroken and upset, okay? But I’m not going _anywhere_ , do you hear me?”

            Richie swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears out of his eyes before nodding. It was unspoken about in their group, but as many jokes and voices as Richie used, they knew he covered up almost everything that he felt. The comedy came naturally to him, but over the years, he’d gotten used to putting on a front. It was easy to become someone else, but even harder when you had to come face-to-face with yourself. As if Eddie could see the gears turning in Richie’s head, he kissed him fiercely, pressing their chests together. Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist and let the shorter boy take the lead, take him _away_. They kissed, hands exploring and fingers feathering over bare skin until the alarm clock on Richie’s nightstand lit up in bright, red numbers: 3:00 AM.

 

 

***

           

            Ben sat in the recliner in his living room, flipping through the movie channels on TV in order to find some semblance of entertainment, but to no avail. Keeping himself occupied or at least distracted was one of the key elements to maintaining his weight loss, so he didn’t eat his boredom. After almost ten minutes worth of skimming through the guide, he settled on _The Blair Witch Project_ , the memory of the movie bringing the slightest hint of a grin to his cherubic face. He was fourteen years old, and neither he nor Beverly had ever seen the movie. In his case, it was out of his mother’s fear that he would have nightmares. In Beverly’s, she never had much in the way of catching up to popular culture or cult classics. They made a pallet out of the comforter off of Ben’s bed and grabbed pillows off of the couch, forging a makeshift bed in the living room floor. Ben popped the disc into the DVD player and sprawled out on the comforter, Beverly taking up the space beside him, and then he pressed play.

            Beverly wasn’t one of the girls in a theater that would hide behind their boyfriend during a jump-scare in a horror movie—on the contrary, in fact. Beverly was hardly afraid of anything, and this movie was no different. Ben actually found himself unnerved by the movie, jolting just the slightest bit every now and again, trying to keep a stony face on for the redhead beside him. Every fifteen minutes or so, she would glance towards him and smirk knowingly, which didn’t help much in the way that he still got very nervous around her. She fell asleep that night on her right side, facing him; her mouth was slightly ajar as she breathed, her red curls falling in her face and accentuating the long, dark eyelashes flush against her cheeks. Ben didn’t get much sleep that night, but he still found that it was one of his fondest memories.

            Richie had texted Ben earlier that day that he was going to come over, and another half an hour passed before Ben heard Richie’s truck pull up in the driveway. He pushed himself up out of the sunken recliner and opened the door, making way for the curly-headed teen to come inside.

            “What’s up, Haystack?” Richie grinned and patted Ben on the shoulder as Ben closed the front door, trailing behind Richie back into the living room.

            “Bored as hell,” Ben admitted, falling back onto the sofa and watching Richie take a seat beside him. A smug smirk appeared on Richie’s face, which was nothing out of the ordinary, but it made Ben’s insides twist nervously. “What about you?”

            Richie turned to face him in his seat, throwing an arm around the back of the couch. “I know about the bet.”

            Ben chuckled and scratched the back of his neck nervously, attempting to read any hint of anger on Richie’s face. “You heard about that?”

            “Yep,” Richie smacked his lips on the ‘p’, raising an eyebrow at the shorter teen. To Ben, he looked more amused and cocky than anything, which made him an odd mix of anxious and curious—a common theme around the trash mouth. “Bev told me.”

            Ben silently cursed the mischievous redhead, chewing on his bottom lip, “And?”

            “And,” Richie chuckled. “You and Bill owe her twenty bucks. Honestly, I feel like I should’ve gotten a cut in this, but,” the brunet shrugged nonchalantly.

            Ben’s eyes grew wide and his mouth gaped, watching Richie’s reaction as he stifled back laughter. “You’re serious, you and Eddie?”

            “You’re surprised, yet you betted on it,” Richie snorted in amusement at the look on Ben’s face, shaking his head, “But yeah, yeah—me and Eds.”

            “It’s about fucking time, dude,” A wide grin spread across Ben’s face as he brought Richie in for a hug, patting the taller man on the back. “I’m proud of you guys; God knows how long we’ve been waiting on you two to get it together.”

            Richie grinned against Ben’s shoulder before pulling away and raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re one to talk, Benjamin.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ben asked warily, huffing out a breath of laughter.

            Richie’s eyes narrowed at the other brunet as he crossed his arms. “Come on, man, you’ve had the hots for Bev ever since Mrs. Butterworth was your main squeeze. You’re about as subtle as I am.”

            Ben felt his cheeks flush red, looking down at his hands. Honestly, he knew that he was terrible at hiding his feelings, but apparently it had to be pretty bad if Richie was picking up on it. He wondered if that meant that Beverly knew, too. It didn’t matter that they had drifted apart a little as a group; he had never been able to look at another girl like he looked at her. It felt like if Beverly was still at least a small part of his life, nobody else could catch his attention. It was always her, it had _always_ been her. “You caught on to that, did you?”

            “Everybody in North fucking America has caught on to that, Haystack,” Richie scooted closer and put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Why don’t you tell her, man?”

            Ben’s eyes grew wide in panic as he shook his head, laughing humorlessly. “You’re hilarious, that isn’t happening.”

            “Why the hell not?” Richie asked. “Dude, it isn’t in the cards for her and Bill. They’re close, yeah, but they’re best friends—that’s it. They might’ve had a thing a hundred years ago, but that’s been over for a long time. I’ll kill you if you ever tell her that I told you this, but she loves you, man.”

            Ben’s heart fluttered in his chest as he mulled Richie’s words over, chewing on the inside of his cheek nervously. That couldn’t be right; Beverly was this tall, curvy, _beautiful_ on the inside and out redhead. Most girls in their school couldn’t stand Beverly, she still got picked on quite a bit, but it was only because they were rightfully intimidated. When she walked into a room, everybody noticed, even if she was in a ripped up pair of hand-me-down jeans and an oversized t-shirt, because she’d always had a certain presence about her. From her freckles to the way she threw her head back when she laughed, people couldn’t stop staring, and Ben was…well, Ben. Even though he’d lost most of his baby fat and he knew that he wasn’t ugly, he was often looked over. He stayed to himself and other people made him nervous. What could she see in that?

            Ben shook his head, glancing up at Richie. “I don’t know about that.”

            Richie looked at him confusedly. “What makes you say that?”

            Ben took a deep breath, sighing before speaking. “ _Your hair is winter fire, January embers; my heart burns there, too._ ”

            He looked up at Richie to see Richie’s face drop, and Ben knew that it had clicked. “ _You_ wrote that?”

            Ben bit his lip and nodded, a slight smile forming on his face. “I wanted to let her know that somebody loved her, but I didn’t have the guts to tell her it was me. And when she wound up thinking it was Bill, it killed me, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her…she loved him, you know?”

            “Yeah, she did, but you’ve gotta tell her, man,” Richie beamed, shaking his head. “I meant what I said, she cares about you. If I have the balls to tell Eddie, you can tell her.”

            “Richie, you climbed on top of his car and forced him to talk to you,” Ben snorted, a grin twitching at the corner of his lip. “I think we can both agree that we’re vastly different in that department.”

            Richie shrugged, nodding. “Well, yeah, but still—promise me that you’ll at least tell her you wrote the poem.”

            A cocktail of emotions swirled in Ben’s gut as he took a deep breath and nodded, swallowing hard. This could make or break everything that he’s ever wanted with Beverly since he was twelve years old, since he first saw the way that summertime sunlight burned against her hair, blinding anyone who dared to stare for too long. His heart had ached for years after he saw her and Bill together, after he saw the expression on her face when she had first met Bill—but he didn’t care. As long as that smile stayed on her lips, he couldn’t be upset as to who put it there. She deserved that much, after everything that had happened in her life. “Yeah, okay. I’ll tell her.”


	14. Chapter 14

            That Monday morning, Richie trekked through the bustling cafeteria to the side door leading to the open court outside of it, automatically spotting Eddie through the wall-length windows lining the cafeteria walls. He acknowledged the blue-haired girl sitting across from his boyfriend at one of the tables beside the brick wall of the school building, laughing at him and jostling Eddie’s hair before the brunet’s automatic reflex kicked in and he tousled it back into place. Richie had made it to school much earlier than he usually did that morning, noting that hardly any of his other friends had arrived yet. He supposed it had a lot to do with the academically inclined boy that he was walking towards, the grin on Eddie’s face when he noticed Richie making the curly-headed boy’s chest swell with happiness.

            Richie pulled the thin leather jacket around him just a bit tighter at the biting wind before heaving his backpack up onto the tabletop and walking up behind Eddie, snaking his arms around the smaller boy’s shoulders and hugging him from behind. An involuntary grin made its way across his cheeks when Eddie automatically leaned back into him, wrapping his hands around Richie’s arms. He kissed the top of the brunet’s head, briefly inhaling Eddie’s clean scent, “Hey, Eds.”

            “Morning, Rich,” Eddie greeted, scooting to the side in the bench seat to make room for Richie. Richie pulled away and took the seat closest to the wall, beaming at the earnest smile on Eddie’s face as he leaned against the bricks and straddled the bench. Before Richie could respond, Eddie was moving over and mirroring his position, leaning his back against Richie’s chest. Richie snaked an arm around Eddie’s waist and found his hand, entwining their fingers in Eddie’s lap.

            Eddie stiffened when the blue-haired girl across from them cleared her throat, and Richie felt a pang of guilt at the fact that he’d forgotten she was there in the first place. Richie looked up at her and saw nothing but amusement evident on her face, a small smirk quirking at the corner of her ruby red lips.

            “Uh, Richie, this is Alicia,” Eddie stuttered out, sitting up in his seat but not moving away from Richie. He sat in between Richie’s sprawled legs, his hand still holding the taller boy’s underneath the table. Richie took in Eddie’s expression and noted that it looked a lot like a kid introducing his boyfriend to his parents for the first time—nervous and twitchy, and expecting the worst form of embarrassment. Richie straddled the line between being on his best behavior and messing with Eddie a little, giving the boy exactly what he expected.

            “Pleasure to meet you, sweetheart,” Richie figured he knew exactly which side won when he grinned at the girl and winked, leaning over to give Eddie a chaste kiss on the cheek. The boy turned the brightest form of pink as he glared at Richie, and Richie knew he was in for an earful later.

            “So this is the infamous Richie I’ve been hearing all about,” Alicia mirrored his grin to the T, and Richie knew that they were on the same warpath: _who can make Eddie blush more?_ She leaned forward and crossed her arms on the tabletop, briefly smirking at Eddie before turning her attention back to Richie. Richie took in her entire ensemble, automatically taking a liking to the girl. Her vibrant hair was put up in a long ponytail cascading down her back, an aged, worn out Led Zeppelin hoodie clinging to her curvy form. Her green eyes were only accentuated by a thin line of winged eyeliner, subtle but statement-worthy, and Richie figured that if it had been in another timeline, in another universe where Eddie wasn’t pressed against him at every angle, he quite possibly could have looked at her as more than a friend. But in the back of his mind, the teenager knew that he only had a bleeding heart for the skinny asthmatic beside him, and he wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

            “Oh, you two had story time?” Richie bit back a grin as Eddie let go of his hand and crossed his arms on the surface of the table, leaning down and hiding his face from the both of them. “Care to share with the class?”

            “Just that you’re the prettiest thing that Eddie has ever seen, and from the looks of it, he let you know it, too,” Alicia’s line of vision trailed down to the purple mark that was undoubtedly poking out from the top of his shirt collar, standing out from his pale skin. She grinned, glancing down at the boy who they both knew was going to chew them out later.

            “I hate you both,” Eddie sighed, his face still hidden and his voice muffled. “I hate you both so much.”

            “Awe, don’t worry, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie chuckled, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s midsection and pulling him closer. Eddie lifted his head and glared at him, his pink-hued cheeks making Richie’s heart thump. “You know I think you’re gorgeous too, baby.”

            Richie winked at him, biting his bottom lip playfully and watching Eddie’s glare falter. Eddie shoved at Richie’s chest half-heartedly, mumbling. “You’re such an asshole.”

            Richie glanced up at Alicia to see her grin turn into a soft smile as she watched the small brunet, suddenly grateful that Eddie had her to rely on when he wasn’t there. “I’m just glad that you two have finally gotten your shit together.”

            “At least someone fucking agrees with me.”

            Richie looked over Eddie to see Beverly taking a seat on the other side of him, a wide grin putting the sunlight behind her to shame. Her long, curly hair was flowing free that day, wild and untamable just like her. She propped her elbows up on the tabletop and let her chin rest in the palm of her hand, glancing between Alicia and the two of them. “Our boys are growing up, Alicia.”

            Alicia sighed dramatically, looking at Richie and Eddie like a mother would when her children were going off to college. “I know. I’m so proud of them.”

            Richie shouldn’t have been surprised that Alicia and Beverly were familiar with each other, speaking that he had been gone for years and Beverly had always had a knack for finding friends in the strangest of places. Looking back and forth between the two of them, you never would have suspected that they found companionship in each other. Beverly was donning a baby pink oversized sweater and light denim skinny jeans with no makeup, her hair falling over her shoulder in its natural state. Alicia looked like someone you would meet in the mosh pit of a rock concert, screaming along to every lyric and throwing elbows at anybody who came too close. But if you knew both of them, they were almost like kindred spirits, the steel along their spines filled with fire and angst. To Richie, it almost seemed like if you knew who Beverly was at her core, you knew Alicia. The thought made him smile to himself.

            More students started pouring from the cafeteria doors, finding their respective tables outside around them. Richie looked up to see Bill and Stan mid-conversation as they walked out together, Bill leaning down and whispering something in Stan’s ear that made him beam. After what Beverly had told him about the two, he figured that he should have seen it from a mile away. Stan had always been the most comfortable around Bill; the stuttering boy had always had that kind of effect on people. He was trustworthy and kind, and never was able to turn anybody that needed help away, even if it meant exhausting himself. Bill was a natural caretaker at heart and Stan—as much as he would disagree—needed somebody to look out for him. They fit and they made sense, and Richie’s heart hoped for the best for them.

            Richie saw the moment that his and Eddie’s position dawned on Bill, with Eddie still sat between Richie’s legs and his side pressed up against Richie’s midsection as he chatted away to Alicia and Beverly. Stan and Bill reached their table and Bill cracked a knowing smile at Richie, nodding once in his direction.

            Beverly automatically reached her hand out towards Bill, opening it and looking over her shoulder at him. “Pay up, Denbrough.”

            Bill cursed under his breath and shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out his worn-out leather wallet and retrieving a twenty dollar bill. He slapped it into Beverly’s hand and gave her a half-hearted glare before walking a few feet to the table next to theirs and letting his backpack fall onto its surface, Stan following him like a shadow. They sat on the bench seat closest to the rest of them and sat backwards, facing their table and letting their backs rest against the surface of theirs.

            “How long ago?” Bill asked, raising an eyebrow in Richie and Eddie’s direction. Eddie still looked dumbfounded and lost at what had happened between Bill and Beverly, while Stan just looked glad that he had never betted in the first place.

            “Last weekend,” Richie smirked, the hand on Eddie’s waist giving a gentle squeeze. “It’s your fault for betting, man.”

            “Wait, betting?” Eddie asked, looking back and forth between Richie and Bill. Stan bit back a bit of laughter, watching as the realization unfolded on Eddie’s face.

             “Bev, Bill and Ben were betting on how long it’d take you two to realize your undying love or whatever,” Stan explained to the confused brunet. “I guess Beverly won. I didn’t want any part of it.”

            “You know what they say about Jews and their money,” Richie grinned in Stan’s direction, the lanky teenager flipping him off in return.

            Stan propped his feet up next to Alicia, glaring at Richie. “Remind me again what Eddie sees in you?”

            The aforementioned boy’s mouth hung open, glancing from Bill to Beverly. “How is that fair? I feel like we should have gotten a cut in this, since we were the source of profit or whatever.”

            Richie flung his arms up, rolling his eyes. “That’s what I said!”

            “Oh, calm down, you got each other,” Alicia snorted, raising an eyebrow at the duo.

            Beverly nodded pointedly at Richie and Eddie, waving a hand in Alicia’s direction. “Thank you.”

            Richie watched Alicia look over them, her expression changing into one of deep appreciation before he figured out why. He turned and followed her line of vision and saw Ben and Mike walking their way, moving past their table and stopping at Stan and Bill’s. All of Ben’s attention was instantly on Beverly, as it had been since they were children, while Mike looked over the table once and quirked an eyebrow at Richie and Eddie. Before he could comment, Ben was pulling two ten dollar bills out of his pocket and shuffling over to Beverly, handing the money to her wordlessly. Beverly’s expression softened at the thick teen as she winked at him and shoved the bills into a pocket in her bag, Ben’s face flushing just as bad as Eddie’s had earlier that morning before he made his way back to their table.

            Mike sat on the tabletop with his feet in the seat next to Stan, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the exchange. “I’m lost.”

            Alicia had moved to mirror Richie’s position with her back against the brick wall, her legs crossed on the bench seat in front of her. “Three out of the many idiots here had a bet as to when these two lovebirds—“, she motioned to Richie and Eddie, making Eddie cross his arms, “would get their heads out of their asses and acknowledge their love or whatever. Beverly won, thus, dumb and dumber paying up.”

            Richie nodded appreciatively at her wording and looked back up at Mike, who remained stony-faced for a few seconds before shaking his head. “I swear to God, this group needs like a damned news reel. ‘Who’s wreaking havoc this week? Flip to page nine to find out’.”

            Mike had always been a man of few words, but the amused yet proud look on his face told Richie all he needed to know about how Mike felt about his and Eddie’s reunification. Richie watched Alicia’s face as Mike spoke, her eyes never leaving his face besides to trail over the man’s form appreciatively. Richie understood her in that matter; Mike had always been attractive, not to mention that he’d always been the most level-headed out of all of the Losers. He tried to stay out of the drama and focus on himself, his friends, and what he needed to do. Richie admired him for that. Even though Mike strayed a bit further than the rest of them from their group over the years, from what Richie had seen, Mike still tried his hardest to check in on them and make sure they were okay.

            Bill snorted at Mike’s words, making Richie smirk and narrow his eyes in the boy’s direction, “Like you have room to talk, Big Bill.”

            Stan’s eyes grew wide and he blushed as Richie motioned between the two of them, bringing attention to how Bill’s arm was leaning on the tabletop and around Stan’s shoulders. Eddie did a double-take at the pair to make sure that he was seeing things correctly as Beverly covered her mouth, trying not to laugh at the panicked look on Bill’s face. Mike looked down at the two of them before snorting and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is anyone straight anymore?”

            Beverly, Ben and Alicia slowly raised their hands and Mike rolled his eyes, a small smirk on the corner of his plump lips as he shook his head once more, “Hallelujah.”

            Richie soaked up the togetherness for the rest of that morning before the bell rang, signifying the beginning of that school day. He watched as his friends, new and old, joked around and got used to being around each other once more as a unit. He watched as Mike and Alicia slowly broke off from the rest of the group conversation, Mike opting to move from his table and sit next to her at theirs. Richie could feel it in his bones every time Eddie laughed whole-heartedly, the laughter reverberating against Richie’s chest with Eddie’s back against it. Richie suddenly felt a swarm of protectiveness warming his stomach at the people surrounding him, each of them vastly different in their own ways yet sharing the same heartbeat. They weren’t what they once were, now grown up and ever-changing, but Richie could have sworn that as he looked around, he saw a group of kids with chubby faces and wild eyes at a Quarry again, soaking up the summer sun.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: a whole lot of Ben/Bev that becomes pseudo-smutty  
> A summary for those that don't want to read the NSFW: Ben tells Beverly that he wrote the infamous poem, and they find each other  
> Song that inspired the smuttiness: Right Here - Chase Atlantic

            Beverly’s heart felt whole in a way that it hadn’t in years. When Richie had moved away, he took a little piece of everybody’s heart along with him and suddenly, their dysfunctional family was cracked and everybody was scrambling and trying to fill the space. It dawned on Beverly soon after Richie left that it wasn’t just Richie that would leave them like that; if anybody had left, this would have been the downfall of the Losers Club. Every single person that was part of their group had a special place in it, no one person was like the others. Every person that joined dug a hole in their collective hearts and placed themselves there, filling a void that none of them knew existed until then. When one person left, none of them felt whole, and such was the situation after Richie moved. When he left it was bad enough, but then Eddie pulled away and suddenly, everybody was breaking off and creating their niche in the world. It left Beverly baffled, sad—like the ground had fallen beneath her feet. She had never had much in the way of her own family and once she found it, it was gone just a little while later. Once Richie came back, he’d seen the aftermath of his disappearance and clawed his way back in, desperately trying to piece back together what had fallen apart. Beverly shouldn’t have been surprised that it was working, but she was—not about the fact that Richie had pulled it off, but that it was happening so quickly. Seeing everybody together for Stan in the hospital, and then that morning at breakfast, it gave her hope again. Their band of wayward misfits was a pulsing, living being again, and it all felt just as effortless as it was before.

            It was both bittersweet and joyful that it was different this time around with all of them. Eddie and Richie had finally found each other, _really_ found each other, and Stan and Bill were catching up to them. Watching the pairs together made her heart skip a painful beat; she wasn’t jealous that she was no longer the outlet for Bill’s affections, but rather because she wanted something like he had. Beverly had never been stupid; for years, she had seen the way that Bill looked at Stan, and vice versa. They looked at each other in hidden glances--as if they stopped looking, the other would disappear and it all would have been a painful, wonderful dream. Beverly supposed she could chalk it up to their traumatic past; at one point in time, with all of them too young to deal with what was happening to them, any of them easily could have seen their last days in the sewers beneath their feet. Bill had already lost so much, and Beverly could see him clinging to Stan like a lifeline after he was in the hospital. But she knew that the longing on Bill’s face began way before Stan’s health scare, and part of her always secretly wished that someone would look at her that way.

            For her, that someone was Ben Hanscom—her wonderful, beautiful, and tender-hearted boy that wasn’t actually _hers_. Beverly wasn’t entirely sure when her heartstrings began tugging in his direction but they did, always there and as prominent as the aching in her chest when he smiled shyly at her. Ben had never looked at her the same way that everyone else did when he first moved to Derry, the unassuming wallflower new kid on the block. No, he looked straight past the rumors that practically read _antagonize me, bully me,_ on her forehead and embraced her anyway. Even years later, in their senior year of high school, that fact still astonished her as much as it did back then, and she didn’t think she would ever be able to repay him for it. She would always have some sort of string connecting her to Bill, lodged in her ribcage and never leaving, but Ben had buried himself in there as well, living and breathing right alongside her heart.

            Ben had pulled Beverly to the side that day during lunch, fidgety and anxious-looking, and asked if she wanted to hang out after school. She didn’t know what to make of the nervousness radiating off of the boy but had agreed nonetheless; she loved being around Ben’s calming demeanor, and pretty much anything at that point was better than being at home. She found herself hugging Bill goodbye after he had dropped her off at Ben’s house with Stan in the backseat, waving to both of them before closing the passengers’ side door behind her. She felt her stomach flutter as she tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, making her way up the concrete walkway leading to Ben’s front door.

            She took a deep breath and rang the doorbell, fidgeting with the edge of her baggy sweater as she waited. It definitely wasn’t the first time that she and Ben had hung out on their own, but it was the first time in quite a while. Over the course of everyone distancing themselves, slowly but surely, that included Ben, as well. She had still spoken to him and kept an eye out for the teenager, but it just hadn’t been the same. He’d had his own things going on, just like everybody else, and that meant less time for one-on-one moments. Before she had time to dwell on second-guessing herself, the door was opening and Ben was standing beside it, giving her a small smile.

            “Hey, Beverly,” He greeted, his round cheeks showing dimples as his smile widened. He moved to the side and opened the door more, allowing her to come inside of the house. As she moved past him, she figured that she would never get over just how much of a transformation Ben had gone through. He was a good four or five inches taller than her now, his weight more evenly distributed throughout his body. His shoulders were broad just like his back and chest, and his hair had taken a bit of a shaggy route as it grew out a little more. She wanted to stop and stare, but she didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself. She was used to attention, both bad and worse, but she always struggled underneath having his. It made her stomach clench and chest tighten in a way that she wasn’t quite used to.

            She put on the most nonchalant demeanor that she could muster, grinning at him over her shoulder. “What’re we doing today, Benjamin?”

            “I was thinking that we could hang out in my room, if you wanted to?” He left it as a question, completely up to her but his expression held hope that she would say yes.

            “Yeah, okay,” She nodded, giving him a reassuring smile and silently following him up the stairs. Ben had always been a bit of quiet one, mostly staying to himself, but Beverly noted that he had been acting more out of character than usual that day. She made a mental note to slide the casual question ‘so what’s been up with you?’ into their conversation, hoping he’d play into it and tell her what was wrong if her tone was light-hearted enough. If there was one thing that she had learned about people, it was that if something seemed too serious for someone like Ben, if the question held too much heat, they usually cowered away.

            Once they reached his bedroom, he left the door open behind them as they made their way inside. Beverly had noticed that his mother’s car was gone, and that usually meant that she was working late. She hopped up onto his bed and let her legs dangle off of the edge, watching him take a seat a foot across from her in his desk chair. “So what’ve you been up to, lately; anything interesting?”

            A small, hesitant smile quirked up in the corner of his lips as he glanced up at her; his eyes were impossibly blue in the dim light coming from behind the blinds obscuring the window above his desk. “I, uh, I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

            She briefly glanced at how much he fidgeted with his hands, rubbing them together and then lacing his fingers before starting the cycle all over again. She felt a bit of nervous sweat pool in her palms as they rested on top of his comforter. “What is it? Is everything okay?”

            He nodded quickly, huffing out a breath of nervous laughter. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I just…I’ve been needing to get something off of my chest for a while; years, actually.”

            Beverly felt her heart constrict at how anxious the boy in front of her was, wanting to pacify him and tell him that _he didn’t have to_ but she bit it back, keeping a straight face and letting him talk. She nodded, beckoning him to continue.

            “I don’t know if you remember—God, it seems so insignificant now—but do you remember a poem, from years ago?” Ben chewed his lip anxiously, looking up at her from underneath the hair that had fallen in his line of vision. He waved his hands as he spoke. “You would have gotten it on your doorstep, like a ding-dong-ditch kind of thing, but—“

            “ _Your hair is winter fire_ ,” She recited, cutting him off instantly. Her heart felt like it was going to break through her ribcage and run rampant, doing whatever it pleased. That poem had always stayed in the back of her mind, locked up for safe keeping and getting her through some of the worst moments of her life. She had always assumed that it was Bill who gave it to her, mainly out of blind hope, but it never really clicked right. He had always been a great writer, a great artist in general, but it never _felt_ like his sort of method. It never radiated _Bill_ , but the day that she had received that nameless poem, she fell in love with whoever was on the end of the pen. But no, it couldn’t have been…could it?

            “I wrote it,” Ben’s voice came out barely above a whisper and he refused to look up, not meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry, Beverly, I’m so sorry. I know you always thought it was Bill; I know you _wished_ it was Bill instead of me, but I couldn’t tell you. You were so happy, I never wanted to—“

            “ _Ben_ ,” She croaked out, her vision going blurry with tears. Her heart ached and her chest felt heavy, but she had never felt lighter in her entire life. He looked up at her, his eyes widening at the tears running down her cheeks.

            “ _Bev_ , I’m so sorry,” He hurried over and moved out of his chair, sitting next to her on the edge of the bed. “I should have told you. Or I shouldn’t have, I don’t know.”

            “Ben, shut up,” She sniffled back more tears before climbing into his lap, straddling his thick thighs and wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt him go stiff with confusion as she hugged him close, burying her face in the crook of his neck. A few seconds passed before he snaked his arms around her waist and embraced her with need, holding her close.

            They stayed there for minutes, silent and not letting their closeness falter before she pulled back, still sitting in his lap and keeping her arms around his neck. Ben kept his hands firm on the small of her back, keeping her from falling onto the floor as he looked at her. His crystal eyes were wide with an array of hope and confusion, making her heart beat rapidly in her chest. “You wrote that for me.”

            “It’s you, Beverly,” He breathed out, his thumbs running small circles into the flesh underneath her sweater. “It’s always been you.”

            Her hands shakily made their way to his face before she kissed him firmly, his mouth automatically opening to accept her. She poured her heart into the kiss, years worth of pain and ache and _love_ making her head dizzy and airless, ripping out every bad memory and replacing them with the feel of Ben’s soft lips moving against hers. His hands moved from her back to her hips, gripping them tightly and keeping her grounded as his tongue flicked against hers, sending sparks of need and _not close enough_ into the pit of her belly. Beverly moved her hands from Ben’s shoulders and into his hair, tugging lightly but firmly enough to let him know _I’m right here_. He sighed into the kiss, and before Beverly knew what was happening, he was wrapping a strong arm around her waist and standing up, turning them around and gently laying her back onto the bed. Never breaking the kiss, Beverly automatically spread her legs to accommodate him, feeling him rest his hands beside her face on the bed to hold himself up.

            She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer, lightly gasping at the feel of him hard against her. She felt his breath stutter as she grinded against him experimentally, his hips involuntarily tilting to meet the warmth between her legs. Ben pulled back a few inches, resting his forehead against Beverly’s and meeting her eyes. He lightly trailed one hand from the bed down to her thigh, glancing down and looking back up at her in a silent question. Her breath hitched when his question clicked and she nodded, biting her bottom lip in anticipation and nervousness. He pulled back and sat up on his knees, her legs splayed on either side of him as she watched him unbutton her jeans and pull down the zipper. Ben’s face was tinted pink with arousal, his full lips swollen and red, and Beverly didn’t think that she had ever seen anything more beautiful in her life. After he had unbuttoned her jeans, he crawled on top of her again and kissed her once, chastely, before leaning his forehead against hers once more.

            “It’s always been you, too, you know,” She stumbled over her words in a desperate need to reassure him, to let him know that it was the same way for her, too. He beamed at her as he nodded, biting his bottom lip before trailing the hand not holding him up down her stomach, his blunt nails lightly scraping against her exposed hipbone. Beverly’s breath caught in her throat as Ben teased the skin directly underneath the lace of her light blue underwear, his eyes looking down and following every move he made. His breath was uneven, jagged and almost panting, as he finally let his hand slip into her underwear, his long, thick fingers teasing along the sensitive skin.

            In the back of her mind, Beverly knew that Ben was inexperienced in this area. He’d kissed other girls, yes, and even had one or two short-term girlfriends in his high school career, but none of it had ever escalated to this point, to the best of Beverly’s knowledge. All she knew is that she had never wanted anybody the way she did Ben, in any form, and that she never wanted anybody else above her besides him again. She took in the easy glide of his fingers against the wet flesh, torn between closing her eyes and _feeling_ , and watching every reaction that he had. When he finally let a single finger slip deep inside of her she gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth to try and stay quiet. His eyes flicked back up to her face and he watched her intently before crooking his finger inside of her and pumping, her chest heaving with every move that he made. She bit down on her palm when he let another finger slip inside with the first, the feeling thicker and leaving her more _full_ as he sped up his pace, brushing against her inner walls with every bend of a knuckle.

            Beverly felt her stomach coil in familiarity, squeezing her eyes shut and panting as she felt electricity tingle at the base of her spine. As she felt herself teetering on the edge, she uncovered her mouth and fisted it into the front of Ben’s shirt, pulling him in and slamming her lips into his. He kissed her with fervor as she tightened around his fingers and whimpered into his mouth, her free hand clawing against his clothed back as her legs trembled. She briefly acknowledged him pulling back and kissing along her jawline and cheeks, murmuring praises as she came down off of her high.

            “So beautiful, Bev, I can’t believe it,” He mumbled incoherently against her skin, reclaiming his fingers and gently slipping them out of her underwear. As her breathing steadied, she petted his hair back away from his face, noticing the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. She leaned forward and kissed it, feeling like she wanted to cry all over again from her revelation.

            She felt him still hard against her inner leg, glancing down and then back up at his face. “Do you want me to help you?”

            He shook his head, smiling softly at her. “No, it’s okay; don’t worry about it.”

            As he leaned forward to kiss her, they both startled at the sound of a door slamming shut downstairs, a woman’s voice trailing behind it. “Ben, honey; are you home?”

            Beverly bit back laughter at the deer in headlights look on Ben’s face, his cheeks flushing all over again. “Yeah, uh, just a second!”

            He quickly stumbled off of her and ran to shut his bedroom door, locking it behind him and leaning against it. She watched his panicked expression morph into disbelief and then amusement as he began cackling, and she found herself doubled over in laughter right alongside with him.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short.  
> Longer coming soon!  
> Song in the truck: I'll Surely Die - The Rubens

 

            Richie found out early on that it was pretty easy to sneak out when his mother was passed out on the couch, late enough in the night where every channel on TV had switched from sitcoms to infomercials. She was a heavy enough sleeper when she had fallen asleep sober, let alone with half a bottle of Jack Daniels rotting away in her gut while her teenage son snuck through the front door of the living room, his truck keys clutched in his hand. The music swaying through the truck’s cassette player as Richie drove gave an unearthly ambiance to the starry Derry night, the chilly breeze rolling in through the cracked windows calming him in a way that not much ever could. It was this side of Derry that Richie had always had a craving for when he moved away: the untainted night skies, the warm summers spent sunburned and sweaty with an ice cream cone melting in his hand at the end of the day. Then he would remember all of the trauma that he and his friends had all been through at the very hands of Derry and its monsters and realized that even with as good as something could be, there would always be a bad that evened the score. He pushed that thought out of his brain as he pulled up in front of a familiar backdrop from his childhood and saw his boyfriend sneaking around from the back of the house, giving Richie a blinding grin as he hopped up into the passenger’s seat. Yeah, maybe Richie had experienced a lot of bad in his life, but if having Eddie back meant dealing with it, he would gladly trek through those murky sewer waters again.

            Out of everything that Richie remembered from his early teenage years and childhood, there was one thing that never changed—the Quarry. Richie figured that much out as he pulled the truck up as close to it as he could, seeing the massive and expanding drop-off ending with the body of water that had become his second home most summers. The stars glinted off of the water and made his chest tight with nostalgia as he looked over at Eddie to see a mirroring expression on the smaller teen’s face, and Richie knew that they had the same memory reel playing in the forefront of their minds. The Rubens continued to play on a low volume throughout the inside of the vehicle, adding a soundtrack to the childhood memory meeting their dying adolescence.

            “So, how’d you get past your mom?” Richie asked, attempting to lighten the mood. “I figured she’d have like, trip wires or something in front of the doors.”

            Eddie huffed out a breath of laughter. “It’s not my first time sneaking out, Rich.”

            Richie exaggerated the hint of surprise he felt at the confession, covering his chest with his hand and gasping, “You, Eddie Kaspbrak? Well, I never.”

            Eddie shoved at him playfully, rolling his eyes and feigning irritation. “Shut the fuck up. I know it’s terrible for you that you’re not the one who corrupted my innocence but I do have a life, y’know.”

            “Oh, ho ho,” Richie waggled his eyebrows, “Bad Boy Kaspbrak: model son during the day, professional twink at night. You know, your mom would have an aneurysm if she—“

            Richie’s sentence was automatically cut off as Eddie gripped the front of Richie’s flannel and pulled him closer, covering Richie’s mouth with his own. Richie’s mouth instantly moved against Eddie’s, none of the tenderness from the weekend before evident as Richie slid further down the bucket seat towards Eddie’s side, holding the asthmatic’s face in his large hands. Eddie whimpered quietly as he shifted positions and threw his leg over Richie’s thighs, straddling the taller boy’s lap in the tight confines of the front seat. Richie chuckled lowly and moved his hands to Eddie’s hips, pressing his thumbs into Eddie’s hipbones into a bordering-painful hold.

            Richie leaned back, short of breath as his lips still hung half an inch apart from Eddie’s. “Someone’s eager tonight.”

            “It’s the only way to get you to stop talking,” Eddie threaded his fingers through Richie’s thick curls, lightly tugging. “My mom isn’t necessarily my idea of dirty talk.”

            A grin tugged on the edge of Richie’s lips, “Dirty talk? I can definitely do dirty talk.”

            Eddie shook his head and cursed underneath his breath before placing his lips on Richie’s again, lightly grinding down against Richie’s lap. A groan emanated from Richie’s throat as he tightened his hold on Eddie’s hips and ground into the space between his legs, light-headed at the discovery that Eddie was already hard against him. Eddie panted in his ear as Richie pulled his mouth away from Eddie’s and began working on his neck, prying one hand away from Eddie’s hip to pull the collar of the brunet’s shirt down. Richie traced his tongue along the space where Eddie’s neck met his shoulder before scraping his teeth against it, feeling Eddie’s hips stutter in search for friction as he whimpered into Richie’s neck.

            “I got you, baby,” Richie whispered the reassurance before pulling away from Eddie’s neck, taking his hands away from the boy’s hips and moving them to the front of his jeans. Eddie looked down at him, his swollen bottom lip caught between his teeth as Richie unbuttoned Eddie’s jeans and pulled down the zipper. Richie looked up at him through his long eyelashes before slipping his hand into the front of Eddie’s boxers, pulling his cock free. Eddie stuttered out a broken moan as Richie wrapped his long fingers around Eddie’s length and began pumping, stopping to slide his thumb through the slit at the head and feeling the precum dripping over it.

            “Fuck, Rich,” Eddie whimpered, letting his forehead fall against Richie’s shoulder. Richie slipped his free hand into the back of Eddie’s shirt, scraping his blunt nails down Eddie’s spine and feeling him shiver at the contact. Eddie panted into the crook of Richie’s neck, every broken moan and whimper that he released sending chills down Richie’s spine and making his untouched cock twitch in the tight confines of his jeans. Richie knew that he was leaking in his briefs as he jerked Eddie off, his breath just as uneven as the boy’s above him. Eddie began biting and licking at the spot directly underneath Richie’s jaw, fisting the shoulders of Richie’s worn out flannel and making the curly-headed teenager buck his hips up involuntarily. Richie hastened the pace of his hand as Eddie’s cries grew louder, reverberating throughout the truck before Eddie spilled out over Richie’s fist, thrusting his hips into Richie’s hold. The sight of Eddie’s hips moving fluidly mixed in with the wanton cries coming out of breathtaking boy in Richie’s lap sent Richie into overdrive as his head fell back against the headrest and he came in his briefs, panting and sputtering out a deep, broken moan.

            When Richie’s breathing evened out he let his eyes flutter open, looking up at Eddie. Eddie looked down at him in awe, his lips swollen and red from biting; Eddie’s innocent, full-cheeked, pink-hued face contrasted Richie’s fingers sticky with his cum and the bright, new hickey on his shoulder. The thought made Richie’s dick twitch to life once, and he figured that if they had another half an hour to spare, he could have gone again.

            “Did you…did you just…?” Eddie glanced down at Richie’s lap, quirking an eyebrow, “Just from doing that to me?”

            Richie bit his bottom lip, feeling his face flush the slightest bit as he shrugged, “Maybe. You’re goddamn gorgeous, Eds.”

            Eddie slowly looked down at Richie’s lips, biting his own and running his hand up Richie’s chest. “Jesus, that’s something I never thought I’d find hot.”

            A slow grin made its way onto Richie’s face before he lifted his clean hand and wrapped it around the back of Eddie’s neck, pulling him in for a deep, languid kiss. After they broke apart Eddie climbed off of Richie’s lap, grimacing at the mess inside of his boxers and on Richie’s hand. Richie rummaged around in the backseat of his truck before he found one of his old, dirty t-shirts and cleaned himself off before tossing it in Eddie’s direction.

            “You really need to clean your truck,” Eddie made a face of slight disgust as he used the shirt to clean himself off. “How old is this shirt, anyway? It smells like you used it for gym class and just forgot it existed.”

            “I think that’s actually what happened,” Richie snorted at the look that Eddie shot him before his phone chirped on the dashboard. Richie grabbed it and unlocked the screen to see one text message from Ben, a picture without a caption or explanation, but none was needed; it showed Ben and Beverly lying down on what looked to be Ben’s bed, Ben’s arm wrapped around the girl’s shoulders and his eyes closed as he kissed her cheek. Beverly lay on Ben’s shoulder, the most content look that Richie had ever seen on her face as her eyes matched the smile on her lips. Richie felt himself grin involuntarily and he mentally praised Ben, his heart swelling two sizes too big for his ribcage at the thought that they had finally, _finally_ , found each other.

            “What’s that?” Eddie asked, looking back and forth between Richie’s grin and his phone curiously. Richie handed Eddie his phone to let his boyfriend see the picture and Richie watched as realization dawned on Eddie, the boy’s eyes softening and a small smile perched on his pink lips. Once Eddie handed the phone back, Richie wrapped an arm around Eddie and pulled him closer, and began typing. To Richie, doing something as simple as wrapping an arm around Eddie or leaning against him had always felt natural; it didn’t take a second thought, and it was as easy as breathing. It was only after watching Ben and Beverly’s relationship evolve that Richie realized that it wasn’t always like that for other people; Ben had pined after the girl for years, and some part of Beverly had always reached out towards him, as well. They doubted themselves too much, but after seeing that picture, to Richie it felt like a missing puzzle piece being clicked into place—it felt like all of their wrongs as a whole were slowly being made right.

            **Richie:** _finally_


End file.
